Starward Gaze
by jumpertrainer
Summary: A strange case of insurance fraud pull Peter and Neal into work on a Saturday.  Can they get to the bottom of everything before something goes terribly wrong?  Whumpage, possible spoilers...
1. Chapter 1

I don't own White Collar or the characters... blah...blah...blah... Please be kind...re[view]...

**A/N: HeHeHe... I couldn't help myself :-D I hope you guys bare with me, I think you'll enjoy it. And yes, I am caught up in my own little world, where all my stories are linked together... **

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Chapter One

Neal Caffrey, convicted felon turned FBI consultant, rode the elevator up to the 21st floor of the Federal building in silence. His partner, Special Agent Peter Burke, had been cryptic on the phone; not usually a good sign. Peter was only that cagey about something when he knew Neal wouldn't want to go along with whatever he was planning, and the fact that they had been called in to work on a Saturday, concerned Neal even more. Neal leaned against the back of the elevator and stuffed his hands down into the front pockets of his jeans. Peter had warned him not to dress in his usual suit and tie. He was sure that Peter was up to something, but try as he might, he couldn't figure out what.

Neal wasn't supposed to have been back to work officially until Monday, when his version of Administrative Leave was over. It had been more like house arrest, when the Marshals had adjusted his normal 2-mile radius down to only about two blocks. Dr. Matthews had given him a clean bill of health the day before. The cracked ribs he had gotten from a pounding he had taken on his last case were just about healed, and he was feeling like himself for the first time in a long time. He had to admit it would be good to be back to work.

As the elevator doors slowly slid open, he was face to face with Peter, who stepped into the elevator, playfully slapping a case folder against his chest before handing it over. There was a mischievous sparkle in Peter's eyes that made Neal uneasy as he turned his attention to the file.

"Insurance Fraud." Neal let the disdain in his voice be apparent, as he rolled his eyes. "This is what was so important, we had to come in on a Saturday."

"Not just any Insurance Fraud." The giddiness in Peter's voice had Neal shooting him a sidelong glance.

"A horse? You've go to be kidding me." Neal read where Peter was pointing.

"Not just any horse. Starward Gaze is insured for $500,000."


	2. Chapter 2

I don't own White Collar, or the characters... blah...blah...blah... Please be kind...re[wind]...

**A/N: I know this chapter is a little on the short side, but I thought it would be a good stopping point. Things are going to pick up, I promise!**

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Chapter Two

"You were the one who said you wanted to get out of the house." Peter shot Neal a goofy grin as he steered the Taurus down the highway.

"This is a little extreme." Neal's tone was quiet and curt as he stared out the passenger side window. He sat quiet for a moment, before turning his attention to Peter. "I just wanted off of house arrest."

"I told you, I couldn't do anything about that…" Peter turned quickly to look at Neal, catching the dark and heated expression that had hardened his partner's face. "I tried…"

"Yeah…you said…" Neal turned back to the window. He and Peter had gone over the matter numerous times in the last two weeks; the Marshal service had put him on lock down pending the finalization of the previous case.

"It was still better that prison." Neal scoffed at the statement, but kept his focus out the window.

"You told me NYPD had dropped the charges." Neal mumbled back. He was still a little irritated about waking up in the hospital handcuffed to the bed. He had managed to get past in initially, but he had been so acutely reminded of it by the Marshals as of late.

"They told me they had. Are we really going to do keep doing this?" Peter was getting irritated; he knew that they had done wrong by Neal, but there truly wasn't anything more he could do. He had managed to keep Neal out of prison, and Peter felt that should've counted for something, even if Neal wasn't able to see it.

"No." Neal answered abruptly, easing himself down farther in his seat, and crossing his arms across his chest.

They rode the rest of the way in silence. As Peter pulled the Taurus through the tall wrought iron gates at the front of the estate, he smiled to himself as Neal eased up out of his seat, his curiosity obviously getting the better of him. The lush green pastures that lay on either side of the long driveway were lined with black four board fencing and small decorative trees that shaded the car as they drove. Up ahead a three story stone house sat at the end of a circular drive that contained a fountain in the middle. About a hundred yards to the right of the house stood a barn; it was constructed of matching stone, and was almost as large as the house. The property was impeccably kept, with manicured lawns and freshly trimmed topiaries. Peter pulled the car around and parked outside the front door of the house.

"It doesn't look like anyone is home." Neal remarked as he followed Peter up the front steps to the door.

"I believe Ms. Bennett lives here by herself." Peter rang the doorbell and waited while trying to keep Neal from peering in through the windows.

"I don't think she's home." Neal wandered back down the stairs to snoop around. He pulled his cotton jacket closer around him, trying to block out the brisk afternoon breeze that was starting to pick up.

When Neal looked up he spotted her, coming from the direction of the barn. She wore tight beige riding pants, slim black leather boots up to her knees, and a short-cropped snug black jacket. Her auburn hair spilled delicately over her shoulders, and played softly in the breeze as she walked towards him.

"You must be Ms. Bennett." Neal smiled his most charming smile; his crystal blue eyes held a hint of intrigue.

"I am." She held out a hand that was as manicured as the rest of the place. "You must be Agent Burke."

"I'm Agent Burke." Peter quickly crossed the distance left between them, and lightly shook her hand. "This is my consultant…"

"Neal…Caffrey." Neal smiled again, as he shook her hand as well, the irritable mood he had been in seemed to wash away almost instantly.

"We can talk in my office." She turned and led them back towards the barn.

"Cut it out." Peter whispered as they walked.

"What?" Neal shot Peter a look of innocence; Peter rolled his eyes in return.

As they entered the barn, Neal couldn't help but be surprise. Everything was neat and tidy; the cobblestone aisleway didn't look like it had a speck of dirt on it, and the air smelled of fresh pine. Small iron chandeliers hung from the ceiling, illuminating the walkway. The stalls were constructed of varnished mahogany colored wood on the bottom, with black iron tops that curved in gentle arches on either side of the doors. He counted what looked to be ten stalls, but only spotted one that appeared to be occupied. The office was in keeping with the rest of the barn. The walls and bookcases were all golden mahogany, and her ornately carved matching desk sat atop a burgundy and navy oriental rug. The whole place oozed a sense of money; not the nouveau riche, this was old money. The shelves that didn't contain leather bound books were full of large round silver plates and trophies, and the walls were covered in photos and large colorful ribbons. Ms. Bennett took her seat and motioned for the two men to sit in the black leather chairs across from her.

"Before we begin, Ms. Bennett…" Peter stopped gazing around the room and turned his attention to the woman behind the desk.

"Please, call me Ashley." She smiled politely back at Peter, waiting patiently for him to take his seat.

"Ashley…" Peter smiled uneasily back at her. "Before we begin, I just want to be clear. This isn't the kind of case we normally take."

"I asked for the best they had, and they gave me you. I hear that you have the highest recovery rate in the FBI."

"I do." Peter looked at the woman in amazement. She may have been soft and feminine looking, but she was obviously intelligent and well educated, and had done her homework.

"Good. Then you'll be fine. Please sit." She motioned to the two chairs again; it was apparent that she was used to being in charge.

It took Peter a moment to get Neal's attention, and they both took their seats. Neal had been spending his time swapping his gaze from the trophies on the shelves to the beautiful woman in front of him. She had a way about her, Neal noticed, and he was intrigued.

"All theses photos, they're of you?" Neal asked, his tone friendly, with a hint of admiration.

"Yes, they're all of me and Ryan." There was sadness to her voice as she answered, her eyes shifting to glance over the photos nearest to her.

"Ryan?" Peter couldn't hide his confusion. "We're talking about the horse, right? I thought his name was Starward Gaze?"

"That was his registered name. Around the barn everyone called him Orion. I just called him Ryan."

"You speak of him like he's no longer with us, isn't that him in the barn?" Neal recognized the horse in the stall outside, as being the same horse in the photos.

"That's what I was trying to explain to Agent Burke on the phone." She made a frustrated gesture in Peter's direction. "That's not my horse."


	3. Chapter 3

I don't own White Collar or the characters... blah...blah...blah... Please be kind...re[view]...

**A/N: I know this is kinda slow... but I promise things are getting ready to pick up... **

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Chapter Three

"You lost me." Neal snuck one more look at the photos of the horse on the wall. "I thought this was about insurance."

"That's where she lost me." Peter looked over at Neal, his own confusion evident on his face.

"Can you start again, from the beginning?" Neal flashed his blue eyes in her direction, a winning smiling creeping across his face.

"Well…" She grinned sheepishly back in Neal's direction. "It's a really long story."

"We have all day." Peter remarked, impatiently. He'd be damned if they were going to get dragged all they way up here on a Saturday just to get jerked around.

"I guess it all started about 13 years ago. I met Dad…" There was obvious pain on the woman's face as she caught herself and rephrased. "I met Mr. Swanson at a horse show. I was 15, living on my own, working as a groom for another farm. He took a liking to me and took me in, much to the dismay of his daughter, Lindy."

"The two of you didn't get along?" Peter asked, hoping that things would start to make sense if he kept the woman talking.

"Not really. I spent a lot more time out in the barn, working with the horses, so I think she got jealous of the time… Mr. Swanson… and I spent together."

"You were very close to him, weren't you?" Neal could see that her green eyes were starting to fill up with tears. They were real tears, real emotions.

"Yes." She sniffed as she dabbed at her nose with a tissue she had pulled from a box on the desk. "He raised me like one of his own. I never knew my real father. I always called Mr. Swanson 'Dad'."

The woman burst into tears, her body shuddering as the sobs came out. Neal waited until she had calmed slightly, before easing himself forward in his chair to lay a hand across hers. He gently patted the back of her hand, trying to comfort her. From reading the file Peter had given him on the way here, he knew the old man had been buried two weeks before. He had been in and out of the hospital for the last year, and had died while Ms. Bennett had been on vacation.

"I'm sorry." She smiled politely back at Neal, who kept his blue eyes softly watching her. "It's been a rough few weeks. The though of loosing Dad and Ryan in the same month is just more than I can bare."

"Please, go on." Peter was eager to get this over with. If there was one thing about women he couldn't stand, it was the crying. He never knew how to handle crying; it made him uncomfortable.

"Lindy is one year older than I am. The year Lindy turned eighteen; Dad had two mares that were full sisters give birth to colts sired by the same sire about three days apart. They were nearly identical black stud colts with two white hind socks. He gave the older one to Lindy, and he gave the younger of the two to me. Dad named them, Starward Regard and Starward Gaze. We just called them Perseus and Orion. They were both sent off to the same trainer for training, and we competed them together all through college."

"So what does this have anything to do with the insurance claim?" Neal kept his tone level and his eyes soft, not wanting to come across as skeptical.

"When Dad drew up his will, he left me this place." She raised her hands and gestured around the room. "And he left me Orion. Up until that point, the horses were owned by the business, but Orion and I were living here, and Lindy and her husband lived on the main farm upstate with Dad.

"I'm still not sure what all of this has to do with the insurance claim?" Peter was becoming impatient. There were other places he would rather be on a beautiful sunny Saturday. And he was yet to see how any of this concerned the insurance claim.

"I was in Milan for the last three weeks on vacation. We had a long break before the next competition, so I though it would be good if we both had some time off. I don't keep a full time groom here, because it's just Ryan, and me. So Ian, one of the grooms from the other farm, came to stay here. He was supposed to look after the house, and take care of Ryan. When I got the call that Dad had…well that Dad had passed…" Ms. Bennett paused and dabbed at her eyes again. "I took the next flight home. I went to the barn to check on Ryan, and found him standing in his stall with a cast on his front leg."

"Which is what the insurance claim is about?" Peter was finally starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

"Yes. But I didn't submit the claim; the claim was submitted before Dad passed. While I was in Milan. If the policy pays out, the business will get the money, and the insurance company will get Ryan."

"But you said earlier that the horse outside wasn't Ryan?" Neal thought his own head was starting to spin.

"I think they switched them while I was away. That horse out there, that's Perseus."

"But if the horses were identical, what would they have to gain?" Neal played dumb, although it wasn't much of a stretch. He had never had much experience with horses, or the industry.

"A lot. Orion is worth a lot more money than Perseus. You see, while Orion and I did very well competing, Lindy and Perseus never won much. She never put the time into it like I did. Then, a few years back, the two horses were in an accident in the trailer on the way to a show. Orion came out almost unharmed, except for some new white hairs that developed along his back, from an abrasion he got from the trailer. Perseus wasn't able to be bred after that."

"So you think they switched the horses so that the insurance company would pay out on the more valuable horse, but they would still have Orion." Peter thought he had caught on to what she was trying to say. "Wouldn't people notice, if all of a sudden Perseus was breed-able again?"

"We never had a reason for why he wasn't able to breed, and we never were very public about the fact that he wasn't. There really wasn't a need to be, seeing as the demand for his offspring was so much lower than Orion's."

"So they end up with a competitive horse, and all the breeding fees." Neal had to admit it seemed logical to him.

"Look, I don't care about the money. If that truly were Orion out there, I would just retire him; I wouldn't give him up to the insurance company. He and this farm are all I have left of Dad. That's why they had to file while I was out of the country, before Dad passed. Please…" The woman turned her red-rimmed eyes in Peter's direction; they were desperate and pleading. "Just get Ryan back for me."

Peter and Neal said their good-byes and headed back to the city. Neal keeping his gazing out the side window of the car, quietly contemplating everything the woman had said. Her teary hazel eyes felt like they were still looking at him, pleading. She had talked about that horse like it was part of the family, and he could tell how much she truly cared for the animal. The problem was, he felt so outside his normal area of expertise, he had no idea where to start. He supposed it was like any other valuable commodity. You just had to follow the money.

"I believe her." He turned and watched as Peter guided the Taurus through the city traffic.

"Because of those big hazel eyes or the plump burgundy lips?" Peter shot Neal a glance as he teased. He knew Neal had been quite taken with the woman, not that the woman wasn't beautiful. He turned his attention back to the road when Neal just sulked down into his seat. "We need to get in to that other farm."


	4. Chapter 4

I don't own White Collar or the characters... blah...blah...blah... Please be kind...re[view]...

**A/N: I know, I know... another short chapter... I'm trying, really! But, I cut the crap out of myself with a hoof knife (why do I keep them so damn sharp?) and it's been hard to type with one finger all taped up... **

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Chapter Four

Neal leaned back on the door to his apartment as it clicked shut, pausing for a moment to catch his breath. Dr. Matthews had warned him that it might take a little while for him not to get short of breath anymore. Being cooped up for the last two weeks hadn't help either. He was about to drag himself towards the kitchen for a glass of wine, when a voice startled him.

"Where have you been?" It was Mozzie. Neal let out a sigh as he pushed himself off the door.

"I got called into work." He slowly meandered over to the table, where he spotted an open bottle of Pinot. Mozzie had drank about half of it already, but he was too tired to complain. He eased his aching body down into on of the chairs at the table; he wondered how long it would be before he'd be able to go a day without something hurting.

"You weren't supposed to start back until Monday." Mozzie took a seat across the table; Neal could see a look a disapproval sweep across his old friends' face, and put up a hand to stop him from saying anything.

"Not tonight Mozz." Neal took a long slow sip of the wine, closing his eyes for a quick moment as he felt its warmth start to sooth the aches away. "I need to find a horse."

"A horse!" Neal couldn't hide his amusement, as Mozzie nearly didn't contain his mouthful of wine. "What on earth do you want a horse for Neal? You getting into racing? I hadn't thought of that before, but…"

"Mozz!" Neal coughed a little; raising his voice had made his throat a little raw. "It's my new case, a missing horse."

"A horse?" Mozzie restated with disdain.

"A $500,000 horse." Neal replied tipping his wineglass in Mozzie's direction.

"Oh…I see. Well that's a little different I guess…" Neal let a smile sweep across his face as his old friend leaned back in his chair as he considered the statement. "Where are you going to find a horse?"

"I have no idea."

.*~*~*~*~*.

Peter tried the handle to Neal's apartment, and finding it unlocked, he let himself in. Normally he would have let Neal get himself to work, but on his first official day back, Peter had thought it would be nice to give him a ride, possibly get past some of the tension that had been creeping back into their relationship the last few weeks. In the middle of the dining table sat an empty wine bottle and two used glasses, but only one coffee cup. Peter glanced around, looking for the bald little man, that he was sure was the other wine drinker, but found the apartment empty. He could hear the shower running, and second-guessed himself as to whether Neal was actually alone. He picked up the wine bottle and walked it to the trash; stopping to pour himself a cup of the irresistible Italian Roast he knew was in the coffeepot. He heard the bathroom door open, and turned to find Neal alone, heading for his bedroom with nothing but a towel on. He couldn't help but notice there was a hint of a limp to Neal's gait, that hadn't been there the last few times he had seen Neal.

"Almost ready?" Neal's whole posture changed at the sound of Peter's voice.

"Peter…didn't know you were coming by." Neal didn't turn but continued on towards the bed, the limp in his step mysteriously vanishing.

"I thought I'd give you a ride in this morning." Peter leaned back against the kitchen counter. "Mozzie here last night?"

"When did you start keeping track of my social calendar again?" Neal's voice was a little rougher than it had been on Saturday. Peter turned his head, casually scanning the kitchen to see if he could spot a bottle of painkillers.

"Looking for something?" Neal emerged from the bedroom dressed from the waist down, and placed the coffee cup he had with him down on the table, before heading for his closet on the other side of the room.

"No…no…just passing the time." Peter called softly, as he looked back at the table. Two coffee cups.

He watched quietly as Neal came out, and stood in front of the mirror above the mantle, carefully tying his tie, affixing his tie clip and smoothing his tailored shirt, before adorning his jacket. He crossed back to the table, picking up his own coffee and finishing the last few sips before addressing Peter.

"To what do I owe the honor of this fortuitous visit?" The sarcasm was evident in his voice as Neal put down his mug, and let his gaze settle on Peter, who seemed to be watching him intently.

"Just thought you'd like a ride." Peter decided to hold of on any serious conversation, even though he knew deep down inside Neal was back to hiding something from him again. A call to Dr. Matthews might be in order later in the day.

They rode in to the office in silence, Neal maintaining his gaze out the side window of the car. Peter lets his eyes run over Neal, performing a mental checklist. Everything seemed exactly as it had always been, right down to the exact angle that Neal wore his fedora. But Peter couldn't get over the nagging feeling that something wasn't right. There was a tension in the air, which hadn't been around in a long while, as they rode the elevator up to the 21st floor. Neal stood against the back wall, both hands casually griping the metal railing behind him, his eyes never leaving the digital readout that told them what floor they were on. As the doors opened at their floor, Peter noticed that Neal hung back a little, following him out of the elevator, and staying a step or two behind. Peter just kept walking, letting Neal settle in at his desk; letting Neal think that he was none the wiser. There were a few things he wanted to take care of before they got started for the day anyway. As he hung his jacket on the back of his chair, there was a knock on his door, and Peter looked up to find one of his junior agents, Diana Barrigan, standing in the doorway.

"How's Caffrey doing?" Peter leaned both hands on the back of the chair, letting his eyes wander past Diana to look down at where Neal was sitting.

"Outwardly, he seems fine." Peter paused and let out a sigh, letting his gaze shift back to the woman standing in front of him. "I don't know. Something seems off."

"It's Neal." Diana shrugged, and looked over her shoulder at Neal before turning back to her boss. "He's probably still pissed about the last two weeks."

"No…there's something else." Peter shook his head. "Keep an eye on him."

Diana nodded and left the office. Peter pulled out his chair, and settled himself down into it, keeping his eyes on Neal for a few minutes. Neal just sat at his desk as always, slightly bent over, reading the file on the current case. Peter shrugged to himself, resigning to investigate the matter latter, and set about making his phone calls.

"Mrs. Thompson. My name is Peter Burke. I'm looking into the insurance claim you submitted about your horse..."


	5. Chapter 5

I don't own White Collar, or the characters... blah...blah...blah... Please be kind...re[view]...

**A/N: Another day of pouring rain... another chapter... although I really should get back to the mountain of laundry I've got! But this is so much more fun... :-P**

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Chapter Five

Neal sat at his desk, doodling little circles on a scrap piece of paper, as he scanned over the case file in front of him. He was a little worried about this being his first case back. A horse? He knew just about nothing when it came to horses. If it was a $500,000 painting, than he was your man, but he felt way in over his head on this one. He absently rubbed his left leg with his free hand; but stopped when he looked up and caught Peter's gaze from up in his office. If Peter knew the leg was still bothering him, he might not let him come back to work, and he'd be damned if he was going to sit on house arrest any longer. It had taken quiet an effort to convince Dr. Matthews on Friday that he was all right and ready for work. He had been successful, but the downside was that he was out of his pain medication. If he concentrated hard enough, he could hide it; he had been for a few days now. He could smell her familiar scent the instant she walked through the front doors, and he couldn't hide the slight smile that crept across his lips as he turned his head in her direction. Her auburn hair curled down around her shoulders, bouncing playfully as she walked. Her green eyes held a bright sparkle to them as she walked towards his desk, her pale burgundy lips curled in an easy smile.

"Morning, Neal." Her voice was soft and held a bit of amusement as she addressed him; her bronze dress hung loosely from her perfectly tanned shoulders. Her large brown and gold purse attractively hung from one arm, that she kept curled elegantly upwards, which pulled his eyes away from the enticing curves of her body and back to her face.

"Morning, Sara." She winked at him, and kept walking. He let his eyes follow her as she passed, and watched her as she turned and headed up the stairs towards Peter's office. A slight feeling of panic swept over him, and he returned his focus to the case file. He flipped a few pages back and reread the insurance information, clenching his jaw as the realization hit him. While the insurance on the horse was through a company specializing in all aspects of the equine industry, Sterling Bosch was the underwriter for the policy.

"Neal!" Peter called from the top of the stairs, waving him up. Neal rolled his eyes and let out a long sigh, shaking his head a little, before dragging himself up out of his chair and heading for the conference room.

Most of the team was already present when he entered, and Neal quietly walked to the back of the room, dropping his copy of the case file down and taking his normal seat at the far end of the long table. He rolled his pen in his fingertips, as he swung his chair from side to side. He was desperately trying to focus on something other than the lingering pain in his hip, or the way that Sara's dress snugly clung to her curves as she stood facing away from him while she talked with Peter. This case was suddenly getting more interesting.

"Neal! Are you paying attention?" Peter's booming voice pulled him back from his daydreaming.

"What? Yeah…" He carefully pulled himself forwards towards the table, not allowing his face to register the pang of pain that shot through him at the effort. He had only been half listening to the conversation, and it took him a moment to figure out what they had been talking about. "But if you've already talked with her on the phone, and she knows you're an FBI agent, who are you going to send out to the farm?"

Neal noticed all eyes turn back towards him. "Ohh…no…Peter, you can't be serious. You think I can tell one black horse from another?"

"No, I think you can read people. That's what I keep you around for, remember? Stop focusing on the damn horse." He made a motion towards his junior agent. "Diana is going with you. She can handle all the detailed information. I want you to go with her, and feel out Mrs. Thompson."

Neal couldn't help but snicker, a mental image forming in his mind.

"I didn't mean it like that." Peter shook his head and tried to shoot Neal a look of disapproval but knew he had failed miserably. He took in a deep breath, turning back to his team. "Alright, we're done here."

Neal waited until most of the people had left, before easing himself up out of his chair. He carefully made his way back to the front of the room and was about to follow Sara out when Peter caught him by the arm.

"Oh no, we're not done." Peter pointed to the door in the back corner. "My office. Now."

.*~*~*~*~*.

Peter settled a little farther back into his chair and stared out the large back windows of his office. Looking out over the city had always had a calming, centering effect on him. He could clear his mind and really think about things. But his mind wouldn't clear today, there was too much troubling him. Neal and Diana had left for the upstate farm, to pose as potential customers. It was the only way they would be able to catch the Thompsons doing any shady dealings. His conversation with Mrs. Thompson earlier that morning had gleaned absolutely nothing. She had obviously had some schooling on how to dodge unwanted questions. He hoped Neal and Diana would manage not to kill each other, and come back with something useful. Try as he might, he hadn't been able to get anything out of Neal before they had left, either. The last few months had given him a mental rest from being forced to play this little game; with Neal having been on pain medication, and therefore more transparent. Peter had gotten quite used to getting strait answers from Neal the last few months, but plainly, that had changed. One thing being on leave had done, was allow Neal to put back up all those walls and barriers he had always been able to hide behind so easily. There was a knock on the door, and Peter turned to find himself face to face with his boss, Reese Hughes.

"Are you sure Neal is ready to be out doing field work?" Hughes crossed the office to where the visitor's chair was, but didn't sit.

"I think it's the best thing for him, right now." Peter lied. He wasn't sure Neal should be back to work at all, at least not until he could figure out what was going on with him. But they really didn't have a choice at this point.

"Well, let's just make sure this all goes smoothly. I just got off the phone with Senator Thompson. Lindy Swanson Thompson's father in law." Hughes shot Peter a stern look. "Tread lightly. They're not to happy with us looking into what they call a 'standard' insurance claim."

"Did you tell him about Ms. Bennett?"

"No. Not until we have to. Let's just make this quick." Peter waited until Hughes had left before turning his attention to the computer monitor that was streaming Neal's current tracking data, watching as the little red dot cruised its way up the highway. He planned on keeping a very close eye on Neal for the rest of the afternoon.


	6. Chapter 6

I don't own White Collar, or the characters... blah...blah...blah... Please be kind...re[view]...

**A/N: Another rainy day... another short chapter... The finger is still taped up, so the typing is still going slowly... but really, y'all can stop doing the rain dance now... ;-P**

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Chapter Six

Peter watched his computer monitor as Neal's tracking data indicated that he and Diana had reached the farm. Maybe it was time for that phone call to the doctor. As he turned to pick up his phone, he saw Sara walk by the front of his office, heading for her temporary office next door. Hughes had granted her space here to work, since her company was so involved in the case, and she was always such a help to them during investigations. Peter decided to wait on his phone call, and go have a talk with Sara.

"You didn't tell me that Mrs. Thompson was the daughter in law of Senator Thompson." Peter tried to hide the annoyance in his voice as he entered Sara's temporary office.

"Does it matter?" She only paused briefly as she finished unpacking her files from her bag. "It doesn't effect the investigation."

"It does when Hughes is getting phone calls from the Senator." Peter pinched the bridge of his nose to ease his temper. "I wouldn't have sent Neal up there if I had known."

"Oh, Neal will be fine. He's a smooth talker." Sara picked up her coffee and sipped it while she studied Peter. She could tell that he was concerned about something.

"Neal's not fine. And he won't talk to me." Peter started slowly pacing the front of the office.

"He's still mad about the last two weeks?" Sara pulled the chair away from the desk and sat down, hoping Peter would do the same.

"No. I don't know." Peter finally took his seat across from Sara; he wasn't sure why this thing with Neal had him so twisted up. He could handle Neal being mad at him, that wasn't anything unusual. And, it wasn't that unusual for Neal to hide something from him. But, somehow this didn't feel like Neal being Neal like everyone else seemed to think, he just couldn't put his finger on it. "He just doesn't seem like himself. Neal being off his game could get him hurt again."

"Well, he seemed fine over the…" Sara paused, taking another sip of her coffee. "He seemed fine during the meeting."

Peter just stared blankly at her. The change in verbiage had not escaped him. The image of the two wineglasses and the two coffee cups sitting on the table in Neal's apartment popped into his head. He was lost for words as he looked across the desk.

"Were you…" The words came out almost in a mumble.

"What?"

"Nevermind." Peter shook his head, and left the office.

.*~*~*~*~*.

"What do you mean you didn't find anything?" Peter paced the back wall of his office. Neal sat in the visitor's chair on the other side of the desk, his forehead buried into the palms of hands, bent forward with his elbows resting on his knees.

"She wasn't there." Neal didn't bother to look up. His head was pounding, and his body was aching; it may have only been mid-day, but all he wanted to do was go home and pass out. "The guy sweeping the barn said she'd had to leave unexpectedly, and wouldn't be back until late."

"You didn't snoop around? You were there for almost an hour." Peter stopped pacing and returned to his desk, easing himself down into his chair. "You mean to tell me that Neal Caffrey, con-man and thief, didn't go poking around to see what he could find?"

"I was allowed to?" Neal finally raised his head to look across at Peter. "I had Diana with me. Besides, the groom never let us out of his sight. I can tell you there is a black horse in the barn. But the guy swore up and down that they didn't use him for breeding anymore."

Peter let out a sigh, Neal hadn't even responded to the little jab that he had given him. He could tell his young partner was exhausted and he no longer had to guess as to how he was feeling. Neal's eyes were dull and hollow looking, and lingering just behind the surface, Peter could see the pain that Neal was trying to hide. He still hadn't had the opportunity to call Dr. Matthews like he had intended, but now he had another reason to talk with the good doctor.

"Forget it. We're going to have to go at this another way. I found out while you were gone, that Mrs. Thompson was Senator Thompson's daughter in law. I'm sure they'll try and keep everything above board until the claim is settled, at least on the surface. I'm having the farm's financials pulled. We'll see what we can find there." Neal just stared back at him blankly. "Come on, Elizabeth wants us to come by for lunch."

"Are you sure I'm allowed to?" Neal's eyes suddenly grew dark, and Peter could hear the underlying spite in his tone.

"So, we are going to do this again." Peter leaned across his desk, folding his hands in front of him. "You know what Neal, just get it out. Because I'm sick of having to keep coming back to it."

"Alright." His tone hardened as he leaned forward towards Peter, his whole body tensing. "You lied to me, you used me, and you let the NYPD and the Marshals have their way with me."

"That's a little harsh, don't you think?" He had been telling himself all day that Neal was past this, but apparently he had been wrong.

" A little harsh? You let them handcuff me to the hospital bed. You told me they dropped the charges. And as soon as Curtis is in jail, I'm put on house arrest, because the NYPD is still investigating me. Did I miss anything? Oh yeah, they thought I was responsible for over dosing Elizabeth."

"Neal…look…" Peter understood Neal's frustration. He had been just as frustrated with the situation. He hadn't lied to Neal; the NYPD had lied to him.

"Save it, Peter." Neal hissed back. "After everything we've been through, you still don't trust me enough to know that I wouldn't hurt Elizabeth like that."

"Neal, I know you wouldn't hurt Elizabeth. That Lieutenant was just trying to make a name for himself."

"Peter…" The stress of this emotional onslaught made his chest tighten, and he couldn't hold back the coughing fit that had been building up, any longer. Peter walked around the desk, and leaned on the edge facing Neal, waiting for him to be done.

"Neal, you're going to hear me out this time. Because this is the last time we're doing this." Peter could feel his own anger starting to creep up, but when Neal finally looked up at him, his body slightly trembling, it was dulled. "You're damn lucky that Hughes, and the rest of this team were willing to stand up for you. If the DA and the AUSA had had their way, you would have spent the last two weeks at MCC, while they finished the investigation and drew up charges. Hell, keeping you out of the MCC was the only reason Hughes didn't put me on Administrative Leave. Curtis tried like hell to take you down with him. I am not going to sit here, and listen to you complain about having to sit in your apartment for two weeks, after everything we went through to keep you there."

Neal just nodded in response as he tried to catch his breath.

"Come on, I think you've had enough for today." Peter gently helped him up out of the chair, and led him out the door. This time, Neal didn't bother to hide the limp.


	7. Chapter 7

I don't own White Collar, or the characters... blah...blah...blah... Please be kind...re[view]...

**A/N: Busy weekend, and a busy week ahead, but here's a little to tie you over ;-) We're getting to the good stuff coming up soon, I PROMISE!**

* * *

Chapter Seven

Neal awoke to the feeling of a cold wet nose being pressed against the side of his face. It took him a moment to get his bearings, recognizing that he was still at Peter's. He remembered that he had wanted to stretch out on the couch for a few minutes after lunch, but he hadn't realized he had fallen asleep. As he eased himself up to a sitting position, he could hear voices out on the patio, and a slight breeze was blowing into the house through the open back door. He scrubbed his hands across his face, and smoothed his hair back, before easing himself to his feet. His conversation with Peter still lingered in the back of his mind, as he slowly made his way through the dining room towards the patio door. They had avoided the subject ever since they had left the Federal building, but Neal couldn't help but wonder where they would go from here. He chuckled to himself, as he leaned against the doorjamb, looking at the gathering that was seated around the iron patio table. He could guess which way they were headed, just by the company that was here, and it was a bit of a relief; he would have to assume that Peter wasn't going to pull him off the case. Either that or this was an intervention, and he should run. Except he physically couldn't run, he reminded himself, so he was stuck.

"Dr. Matthews." Neal nodded to the young surgeon, who had caught sight of Neal. Neal noticed the man was dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, his leather jacket hung over the back of his chair, indicating he was not working today. Neal felt a little guilty, knowing that Peter had called him. Everyone at the table turned to look at the sound of Neal's voice, and he couldn't help but smile seeing those green eyes turn towards him. "Sara."

"Neal." She smiled back, pointing to an empty chair between her and Elizabeth. He slowly and stiffly made his way over and took his seat; Sara reached under the table and patted his leg softly as she leaned over to whisper in his ear. "It's alright."

"So…What's going on?" He asked hesitantly.

"Peter called me. I was on my way home from the hospital, so I thought I would stop by." The doctor's manner was casual and easy, making Neal relax just a bit.

"Called about what?" Neal looked back and forth between the doctor and Peter, impulsively pretending not to know what they were talking about.

"Neal…" Peter's tone held a warning to it, but the doctor held up a hand to stop him.

"Look, Neal." The doctor paused, waiting for Neal to turn his attention to him. "You're cleared to go back to work, but there is no reason for you to be at work in pain."

Neal started to say something, but quickly shut his mouth again, and just stared back at Dr. Matthews. He knew what they wanted him to say, but he just wasn't the kind of person to openly admit something like that.

"It's alright, Neal." The doctor had seen how uneasily Neal had walked out of the house; Neal didn't have to say anything to confirm his and Peter's suspicions. Dr. Matthews casually pushed his chair back from the table and stood, walking around to where Neal sat. He pulled a pill bottle out of his pocket, handing it to Neal. "I have to be on my way, or I'll be late. You and I can talk later, alright?"

Neal took the small orange bottle, nodding his agreement to the doctor. He wasn't sure which he hated more, the fact that he still couldn't function without the stupid pills, or the fact that everyone knew. He had truly wanted to get things back to normal, and not have such intrusions into things that he normally would have kept to himself. He could feel Peter's eyes on him, but he kept his own eyes averted.

"Well…now that that is settled, I have to get back to the office." Peter stood, giving his wife a kiss on the cheek, before turning his attention to Neal. "You're going home, taking some of those pills, and resting. I expect you at work first thing in the morning."

Neal wasn't sure what to say, so he decided on nothing, as he watched Elizabeth get up from the table, and follow Peter back into the house. A feeling of frustration started to build up inside him, not knowing how he was going to get back home. Peter wouldn't just leave him like that, would he? He felt Sara lay her hand on his shoulder, and turned to see that she had stood up from the table as well.

"Come on." Sara reached a hand out to him when he didn't get up. "I told Peter I would take you."

Neal let a wry smile creep across his face as he slowly eased himself out of his chair.

.*~*~*~*~*.

Peter checked his watch, it was quarter after eight, and Neal was late. He rolled his head on his shoulders, cracking his neck, and caught sight of Neal, finally coming through the main office doors. Something about Neal seemed peculiar to Peter, as he watched his younger partner, and he walked over to look out his doorway to satisfy his curiosity. Neal was dressed to go back up to the farm; he wore a smart black suit and a light blue shirt with the top button casually unbuttoned. Peter had seen the outfit, and ones similar, before when Neal had been going undercover. But, Peter decided it was the spring in his step and the sparkle in his eyes that seemed off. The last time he had seen Neal, the day before, Neal had been far from being himself. This was Neal, like he was before any of the injuries had happened. Peter wondered if it was still all an act again. As he stepped through his office door to call Neal up, he spotted Sara coming from the elevators. Interesting, he told himself; he would have to investigate that coincidence further.

"Neal." Peter called down to his partner waving him up to the office.

As Neal headed for Peter's office, he could feel a presence behind him; he turned to find Sara coming up behind him. He smiled, gesturing with his hand for her to take the stairs in front of him. She was attractively dressed, as always, her navy blue pantsuit hugged her curves slightly, allowing the red trim on her navy lace camisole to playfully show both above and below the center button. As they reached the top of the stairs, Neal paused, watching Sarah disappear into her temporary office, before going to meet with Peter. He found his partner sitting behind his desk, leaning back in his chair watching him, a playful grin on his face. One look at Peter's face, and Neal knew Peter had figured it out; he took his seat across from Peter, easing himself back and mirroring Peter's relaxed posture. He casually smiled back at his friend and mentor; he certainly wasn't going to divulge anything if he didn't have to.

"You look well rested this morning." Peter's voice was laced with amusement.

"I'm feeling much better this morning." Neal smirked, and chuckled to himself. "Thanks for asking."

"Sara give you a ride in this morning?" Peter leaned forward; he couldn't resist the urge to pry a little.

"Sara was kind enough to pick me up on her way in this morning." Neal just smiled back at Peter, his blue eyes were clear and told no secrets. Peter found it strangely comforting.

"Alright, Casanova. You ready to get to work?"

"What's the plan, Mr. Mandelson?" Neal's eyes twinkled back playfully, a devious smile on his face.

"Hey…watch it. I take offense to that comparison." Peter retorted lightheartedly, as he feigned hurt. This was the first time in weeks that Neal had been in such good spirits, and Peter took it as a good sign.

"I don't know, Peter…your average has been slipping lately." Neal leaned a little farther in his chair, a mischievous glint to his eyes.

"We'll just see about that." Peter let his own devilish smile cross his lips. "You, me, and Sara are going up to that farm."

"Sara's coming?" Peter reveled as he saw a hint of panic flash through Neal's eyes.

"This is going to be fun." Peter leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head. He was going to enjoy this.


	8. Chapter 8

I don't own White Collar, or the characters... blah...blah...blah... Please be kind...re[view]...

**A/N: Sorry for the delay in updates... I've had a bunch of stuff going on, and again with an awful case of writers block. :*( But I'm going to post the little I have, and hopefully starting a new chapter will spur me on, as we're getting ready for the good stuff! **

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Chapter Eight

Sara sat in the backseat of the Taurus, going over her case notes, which she had spread, from one side of the car to the other. Neal had been making a conscious effort the whole trip to avoid looking back at her, and the longer they spent on the highway, the more restless he seemed to get. Now, he sat in the front passenger's seat, playing with the controls on the in-dash GPS, and fidgeting with the radio. There was a certain easy familiarity to it that made Peter smile, despite himself.

"Cut it out." Peter finally reprimanded his younger partner. Neal quietly shot him an offended look, and then shifted his gaze out the window. "You know what you have to do?"

"Yeah…Peter. I got this." Neal looked back towards Peter, and caught his look of doubt. "I studied last night."

"Among other things." Peter muttered under his breath, keeping his eyes straight ahead on the road.

"What was that?" Neal's tone had taken on a bit of amusement, and out of the corner of his eye, Peter saw Neal flick a look back at Sara.

"Nothing." Peter settled back into his seat, pleased with himself, and enjoyed the silence.

As Peter pulled the Taurus off the road and down the long driveway, the large ornate iron gates gracefully swung open.

"Guess they were expecting us." Neal murmured, stating the obvious.

"She better be here, this time. That's all I've got to say." Peter grumbled as he gawked at the sight in front of him.

The gate opened up to a long driveway, lined on both sides with white four-board fencing. A large pond with a fountain sat a few hundred yards off to the right, and horses quietly grazed under the large old oak trees that dotted the bright green rolling pastures on both sides. Ahead of them, at the end of the long driveway, sat a massive building, one could only guess was the stables. The driveway opened up into a large paved parking lot that lined the entire front of the facility. It's brick exterior exuded the same feeling of old money that the previous barn had, but this one was obviously more of a working facility, where the other had had more of a private feel. Neal waited until Peter had parked the car in front of what looked to be the main entrance, and eased himself out of the car, opening the back door for Sara.

"You ready for this?" Sara asked him quietly as she pulled her briefcase out of the car.

"Yeah. Nick Halden, at your service." He gave her a big easy smile; his blue eyes twinkled with a sense of excitement.

"Just remember what we talked about last…" Sara caught sight of Peter standing close by and stopped mid sentence. She restlessly reached a hand up, fixing the collar on his shirt, letting her hand linger on his chest for a moment. "You'll be fine."

Peter fell into step with Neal, who was following just behind Sara.

"I saw that." Peter quipped; Neal shot him an unamused glance, as he quickened his step to catch up with Sara.

A tall slender blonde appeared out of a door to the left, just ahead of them, as soon as their feet hit the rubber pavers just inside the main entry. Neal recognized her from the photo in their file; she was a stark contrast to Ms. Bennett in that she was dressed more casually, but yet still managed to hold a more condescending air about her. She wore snug blue jeans over her spotlessly clean work boots, and pink ruffled cap sleeve top that did a good job of showing off the cleavage she had undoubtedly paid for. Her skin was unnaturally tan, and both wrists held numerous bracelets; some were plain gold, other covered in diamonds to match the ones dripping from her ears. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and covered with a baseball cap that held some logo Neal didn't recognize. Her smile was a little unnerving as she crossed the distance between them.

"Ms. Ellis. Your called office told me to expect you. What can I do for you?" Her tone warm friendly tone was forced.

"Mr. Thompson, this is Special Agent Burke, he's looking into Ms. Bennett's claim." Sara gestured to Peter; the woman barely acknowledged him.

"And who might this be?" Mrs. Thompson held out her hand towards Neal.

"Nick Halden." He took the woman's hand, gently shaking it while he plastered his most enchanting smile across his face. "I'm the appraiser that Sterling Bosch has assigned to your claim."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Halden." Neal saw the woman run her eyes over him, before grinning back. "We can talk in my office."

She turned and walked back in the direction from which she had come.

"I don't think she liked you much." Neal whispered to Peter, with his best serious face on, trying to hold back his laughter.

"Just go." Peter shook his head, and pointed in the direction that the woman had gone.

The office was open and spacious; its cheery pastel yellow walls were adorned with oil paintings of landscapes and hunt scenes. The large windows along the back wall were framed with ornate floor length curtains that spilled down onto what appeared to be a hand tied Oriental rug. The furniture was all finished in bright oak and was modern, yet tasteful. Directly behind the desk were a few short shelves that contained small silver plaques and trophies. Neal also noticed that there were no photos of any horses or riders, and the large colorful ribbons he remembered from Ms. Bennett's barn were nowhere to be seen. In fact, the only actual photo in the room was a rather large one of Senator and Mrs. Thompson that hung over the faux mantle across the room. As he took his seat next to Sara, Neal thought he caught a whiff of fresh paint.

Neal sat there watching and listening as the woman droned on an on with what was obviously a well rehearsed speech, and easily side stepped Peter's questions. He wondered if that is where she had disappeared to the previous day. Neal was sure she had quite the legal team to run to, with her husband being a politician. All the answered she was giving were straight forward and simple, and didn't really seem to answer the questions at all. He let Peter go on for a few minutes, before he decided it was time to change tactics.

"Your office is lovely, Mrs. Thompson." Neal cut Peter off.

"Thank you." The woman beamed back at him, the first hint of emotion she had shown since they had all sat down.

"Did you just have it redone?" Neal kept his tone unassuming.

"Yes, we had a…water leak. It was just finished a few days ago." Likely story, Neal thought to himself, as he kept his demeanor amiable. There was something off about this lady; he just had to figure out what it was. He definitely didn't believe her.

"I'm sorry to hear that." He flashed a wide grin at her. "About the leak, I mean. Would you mind if we see the horse now?"

"Of course." The woman nodded. "John will show you around, if Agent Burke still has more questions for me."

Neal flicked a glance over to Peter, who just nodded back in approval. Neal was getting an uncomfortable feeling about separating from Peter, but he shrugged it off. It was just nerves from being back to work, he told himself, as he followed Sara out of the office.


	9. Chapter 9

I don't own White Collar, or the characters... blah...blah...blah... Please be kind...re[view]...

**A/N: Alright, so hopefully I'll be back to writing a little more constantly... hope you enjoy! ****Let the whumping begin! -)**

* * *

Chapter Nine

"Look, Mrs. Thompson." Peter was started to regret letting Neal out of the room. The woman was wearing on his nerves. "Mr. Halden tells me we can clear this up with a simple DNA test."

"Only if I see a court order." She eased herself back into her chair, crossing her arms across her chest and squaring off to Peter. "I think from now on, any future conversations can be arranged through my lawyer."

Peter nodded politely and stood, gratefully showing himself out of the office. He was aware of the fact that Mrs. Thompson was following close behind him, but he paid her no mind. He could see Neal walking down the main aisle way of the barn, with Sara walking just to his right. Even though there were a number of people milling around, nobody seemed to notice them as they headed towards the far end of the barn. He followed along a ways behind them, not in any huge hurry to catch up; the longer they could linger here, the more they could learn. He paused to allow one of the grooms to walk a horse out of its stall just ahead of him. Once the horse passed, he realized he could no longer see Neal or Sara, and quickened his step slightly. As he came to the end of the barn, and exited through the double doors, he gazed around looking for his consultant. There was no sight of anyone in any direction, he must have missed them back in the barn. Just as he went to turn around, something cracked him hard in the back of the head. He stumbled forward a few steps, his vision starting to blur.

"Shouldn't meddled with things you're unconcerned with." The voice stumbled through the sentence, a thick European accent making the voice difficult to understand. A firm hand reached out and grabbed Peter's arm from behind, as his legs started to buckle underneath him. There was a roaring in his head as his vision blackened, and he felt a sharp prick in his neck just as he lost consciousness.

.*~*~*~*~*.

Neal followed along behind John; the man Sara had explained was one of the farm's managers. He led them out of the backside of the main barn, and across a large grassed area towards a second smaller building a little ways off. Neal couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that had been lingering since leaving Peter, but John kept reassuring them that the horse in question was in that smaller barn. As they entered through a small doorway, the darkness surrounded them, the uneasy feeling quickly changing into one of fear and dread. He heard a muffled gasp behind him; panic filled him as he tried to turn to find Sara, only as a firm hand grabbed his left arm, roughly twisting it behind his back.

"Sara!" He desperately called out, not caring about the goon who had a grip on him.

"You be quiet." The goon growled into his ear, as he twisted Neal's arm harder. The pain radiated from the previously injured shoulder; the blood pounding in his head and his heart was racing in his chest. He could hear the goon snicker, relishing the obvious pain he was causing. The thought raced through Neal's mind as to whether they knew enough about him to know about the shoulder or if the man had just gotten lucky. It didn't really matter, because the continued pain was starting to make him dizzy.

"Come on, stop wasting time. Let's get out of here." Another gruff voice called from behind them. Instinctively, Neal tried to crane his head to find where the voice had come from, but the darkness revealed nothing.

"Alright, alright." The man tightened his already painful grip on Neal's arm. Neal felt the warmth of the man's breath on him, as the man whispered in his ear again. "See how you like this."

A loud popping noise came from Neal's shoulder as the man aggressively jerked his arm up. Neal couldn't help but yelp in pain, his head felt like it would violently spin off of his shoulders, and he desperately tried to keep from vomiting. Breathe, damn it, he told himself and he tortuously sucked in a breath through his clenched teeth. Through the daze, his thoughts kept wondering back to where Sara was, and what they may have had done to her. Hopefully Peter wouldn't be too far behind. He could hear the two men laughing as he shivered and blacked out.

.*~*~*~*~*.

He was content as he rolled over in the bed, the summer sun filling the room with a warm glow. He smiled as he looked into her blue eyes as they gazed back at him. Her dark brown hair spilled down the pillow and softly framed her face as she lay there next to him.

"_What?" She asked playfully._

"_Nothing. I'm not allowed to admire you?" He reached a hand up and gently brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes._

"_Well, you can admire from across the breakfast table." She sat up; swinging her legs over the side of the bed, and pulled the sheet along with her as she stood. "Come on, I'm starved."_

"Neal? NEAL?" The voice was familiar, but it wasn't the woman from his dream, it wasn't Kate. But, he knew he should have recognized it; his brain was fuzzy and he found himself surrounded in darkness. The memory of Kate was softened in his mind as he drew in the familiar scent surrounding him. He felt a hand gently brush across his forehead, and he mumbled incoherently in response, before sliding back into unconsciousness.

He looked across the table, watching as she delicately sipped from the large wineglass in her hand.

"_Something wrong, Neal?" Her green eyes watched him worriedly. _

"_No, I'm fine." He fidgeted with his wineglass. _

"_You know, Peter is going to find out eventually. You ought to just tell him." She put her wine down, elegantly folding her hands together, letting her elbows rest on the table. _

"_He'll find out soon enough." He took a long sip of wine. He didn't want to tell Peter, even though he was sure Peter knew already. But it felt like if he actually came out and told him, put it into words, that the whole thing would fall apart. He didn't want this to fall apart. He'd already lost one woman he loved, and this was so fresh and new; he wasn't going to do anything to risk loosing her as well. _

"_Did you take the pills like Dr. Matthews told you?" Her tone was soft and caring._

"_Yes, MOM…" He teased back. _

"_Hey, I'm just here to help, Neal. I told Peter I would keep an eye on you."_

"_Uh…huh… you think this was what he had in mind?" Neal reached out and traced a finger softly down her arm. Despite the dim light, her skin seemed to glow. _

"_Probably not. Since when did you care?" She sent him an easy inviting smile. _

"_It was a fleeting moment." He smiled mischievously back at her. "See, I'm already past it."_

Peter ran a hand through his hair and down his face, trying to steady himself. He could make out a couple figures not far away in the darkness. He could hear a woman's voice talking quietly, and he squinted, trying to make out the figure. He eased himself over in the direction of where they were sitting.

"Sara?" He whispered. He didn't dare make too much noise until he knew what was going on.

"Peter?" He could hear relief in her voice. "Oh my god, I'm so glad you're here."

"Where's Neal?" He eased himself down next to her.

"He's right here, but he's hurt. I'm not sure what they did to him, but he's been mumbling, and he's cold." She turned her head in Peter's direction, longing to be able to see his familiar comforting face. "He's so cold."

"Here, put this on him." He slipped off his jacket, handing it over to her. He let his hand ease down to find Neal lying in her lap, his forehead was cold and damp, and his body trembled. A knot formed instantly in his gut, anger and fury filling him. "I'm going to see if I can figure out where we are."

"Peter…"

"I'll be right back." As he eased himself up to his feet, he could see a glow appear in the distance. From the light it was giving off, he could tell they were in a stall. He walked to the door, finding it chained shut with a large lock. He gazed out into the aisle way, recognizing their surroundings as Ms. Bennett's barn.

"Is someone coming?" Peter could hear the alarm in Sara's voice His own panic starting to rise up, as he turned and caught sight of his partner unconscious on the ground.

"That's not a light. It's a fire, and we're locked in."


	10. Chapter 10

I don't own White Collar, or the characters... blah... blah... blah... Please be kind... re[view]...

**A/N: Coaching but not riding this weekend, so I squeezed another chapter in while it was storming. Hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter Ten

"Neal… Come on buddy. You've got to wake up." Peter regrettably let his open palm land across the side of Neal's face with a crack. His younger partner's eyes flashed open from the sudden sting; the normally vibrant blue eyes were glassy behind the drooping eyelids. "Damn it, Neal. Cowboy up."

Neal nodded at Peter, and pulled himself up to a sitting position. He suddenly remembered what was going on, and craned his head around in a panic, relaxing a bit to see Sara sitting behind him. He held his left arm tightly against his body with his good hand, as the pain from the shoulder came flooding back to him. He felt cold, even though it was still warm out, and he couldn't keep from shivering. He closed his eyes and drew in a long breath, trying to steady himself.

"Is that smoke?" Neal forgot about the pain, as a feeling of alarm crept over him.

"Yeah. We've got to get out of here." Peter gestured over to Neal, indicating the way he was clutching at his arm. "What's wrong with that?"

"I think they dislocated it." Neal tried to shrug it off, by Peter could see the pain lingering in the back of his blue eyes. Neal carefully turned so that he could see Sara. "You OK?"

"I'm fine." She smiled back at him, trying to mask her own nerves. "How are we going to get out of here?"

"I don't know, but once that fire gets up into the hay loft, we won't have long." Peter rocked back onto his heels, glancing around their space as the light from the fire was getting stronger. "If somebody can get over the wall, they could find something to pick the lock."

"You could hoist me over." Sara offered.

"You can pick a lock?" Neal raised a curious eyebrow in her direction; he was slightly intrigued.

"No. Can't we just turn the lock in here?" Her eyes were pleading as she glanced over to Peter.

"I already tried, it won't budge."

"I'll go. You can push me over the wall, Peter."

"And what then? How are you going to climb down a wall and pick a lock with one arm?" Peter retorted.

"Well, I certainly can't lift you. You see any other choice?" Neal let his eyes wonder around the small space. He really didn't want to go over the wall; he knew how much the landing was going to hurt. His eyes landed back on Sara, the terror of the situation was evident on her face. He set his jaw and turned back to Peter, as he gingerly pushed himself to his feet. "We don't have time to discuss this."

"Fine." Peter knew it was their only option, but he didn't have to like it. He knew his partner wasn't going to be able to break his fall on the other side. He followed Neal to the front of the stall.

"Neal, wait…" Sara rose to her feet and crossed to where the two men where standing. She tenderly reached a hand out, cupping the side of Neal's face. She saw him shoot a glance over to Peter, but she decided to ignore his uneasiness. She carefully pulled him towards her, and brushed her check against his before landing a delicately kissing his lips. "Be careful."

Neal turned back to Peter without saying anything, and was glad when Peter seemed to ignore the interaction. Peter held out his cupped hands, and Neal placed his foot into them, reaching for the top of the wall as Peter pushed him up. As he wrapped both arms over the top board, the searing pain in his left shoulder made his head spin and his vision fade. The sight of the growing fire at the far end of the aisle way pulled him back to attention, and he painfully hauled himself over. He tried to ease himself down, but he had no strength to hold himself, in the left arm, and he lost his grip. He fell, only briefly onto his feet, before tumbling roughly onto the ground. He cursed as he tried to suck in a breath and stop the pounding in his head. Every fiber in his body wanted to just lie there and pass out. The fire made a loud pop, and he heard Sara shriek. The fright in her voice making him clamber back to his feet. He didn't turn to face them, but stumbled in the direction of the office, desperately trying to ignore the chills and the nausea running through him again.

A slight rush of relief quelled his nerves for a brief moment, when he reached out and found the door to the office unlock. His relief faded quickly when he tried to turn on the lights, and found that the power had been cut; he had to assume that meant the phone was out as well. He crossed to the desk as quickly as he could, fumbling to open the drawers in the dark. He could hear Peter and Sara frantically calling to him. The fire had nearly reached the hayloft, and the glow from outside the office was becoming increasingly bright. He searched around with his good hand and found a couple of paper clips, quickly slipping them into his pocket and heading back to where Peter and Sara were.

"Here." Neal passed one of the paper clips through the bars to Peter. "Open it up, and break it in half.

Peter did as he was told, and handed the two halves back to Neal. As he shoved the first half into the lock, he tried to bring his left hand up to hold the makeshift lock pick, only to find that he couldn't lift his arm. He couldn't help but curse, as he leaned down to hold the slim piece of metal with his teeth.

"Damn it." Neal mumbled after a few failed attempts to move the lock's tumblers.

"Neal…Now, would be good." Peter whispered over to his partner, as he could hear the roaring of the fire above them, indicating that the hay in the loft had caught.

Neal didn't drop his make shift tool from his teeth, but shot Peter a nasty glare as he tried again. The heat from the fire was increasing, and he could feel the sweat starting to form on his forehead. After what seemed like an eternity, he heard the click of the first pin set, and he worked frantically on the remaining ones. He knew that Peter was pacing on the other side of the door, but he didn't look at him. It was everything he could do to keep his attention on the task at hand. His whole body was trembling by the time he had the last pin set, and the lock clicked open. He felt Sara's hands on his arm, gently holding him up, as his knees tried to buckle underneath him. His blinked the sweat from his eyes as he looked up, seeing that the entire barn had become engulfed in flames. The ceiling flickered, covered in an ominous orange and red as the hot flames ate away at it. Despite the urgency to get out of the building, he could feel his body fighting him. He let his eyelids droop shut as Sara started leading him towards the door, only a few steps behind Peter. They hadn't made it far when a loud cracking noise came from above, and pieces of the ceiling started falling down around them.

"Hurry." He heard Peter shout to him, but his mind seemed like it was disconnected from his body. He was having trouble forcing himself to walk, and he tried to call back to Peter, but the words didn't come out. He brought his desperate pleading eyes up to Sara's, as he felt himself give into the darkness, before falling to the ground.


	11. Chapter 11

I don't own White Collar or the characters... blah...blah...blah... Please be kind...re [view]...

**A/N: hollowgirl15 - wishful thinking, huh? LOL! **

* * *

Chapter Eleven

"_Hey, I'm just here to help, Neal. I told Peter I would keep an eye on you."_

"_Uh…huh… you think this was what he had in mind?" Neal reached out and traced a finger softly down her arm. Despite the dim light, her skin seemed to glow. _

"_Probably not. Since when did you care?" She sent him an easy inviting smile. _

"_It was a fleeting moment." He smiled mischievously back at her. "See, I'm already past it."_

"_I can see that." Sara broadened her smile as she unfolded her hands, and placed one into Neal's. "But we really ought to get this work out of the way first."_

"_Work before play, huh?" He winked at her and flashed her his best dazzling smile, as he stood, and walked around the end of the table without letting go of her hand, and pulled her to her feet. "I've always been more of a play before work kind of person."_

_He led her to the bedroom, pulling his shirt off over his head as she settled down on the edge of the bed. He heard her let out a gasp as he brought his arms down, and she stood back up, gingerly running a hand down the scar on his left shoulder. The memories of being kidnapped and stabbed still all too fresh in his mind; he drew away from her, trying to avoid the questions he knew were coming. She approached from behind, quietly placing her hands on the back of his shoulders, and laying her head on the bare skin. She vaguely remembered the details about the DeLuca case, it wasn't one she had worked on; she hadn't been prepared for how seeing the evidence of what had happened would effect her. She regretted her reaction; she could feel him trembling slightly under her hands._

"_NEAL!" The man's voice was out of place, and suddenly the scene in the apartment vanished, and he was standing alone, surrounded in darkness. "Neal, come on buddy."_

_He could hear the voice, it was Peter's, but couldn't see anyone. He spun around, frantically trying to find his mentor, when he found nothing all he could do was scream his partner's name._

"Neal?" Peter brushed the shoot from his partner's face, as he laid him down on the grass outside the barn. His adrenaline was still pumping through his veins, and his voice was just as shaky as his hand. He had turned as he had gotten to the door, only to watch as a piece of burning rafter had crashed down on top of Neal, as he lay unconscious on the floor. It had been everything he and Sara could do to get the large doors open and drag Neal's limp body out of the building as it had imploded into a fiery heap of debris. The scene outside hadn't been much better; they had exited to find the house had been torched as well. The whole property was engulfed in a hot red glow. Peter's gut told him this was now a murder investigation as well.

"p..tr..." Neal rocked his head from side to side as he mumbled the name.

"How do we get out of here?" Sara's voice held concern as she knelt down next to Neal.

"There aren't many houses around and he's not going to be able to walk out. We're going to have to find something to cut his anklet." Peter glanced from Sara's face down to Neal's. A small trickle of blood was forming down the side of his face from where the beam had crashed down on him. "Stay with him. I think there was an equipment shed behind the barn."

Sara nodded as she watched Peter head back towards the flames; with any luck, the shed would still be there.

"p...tr..." Neal softly mumble again, drawing Sara's attention.

"He'll be right back, Neal." She softly laid her hand over the wound above his eye, gently picking the larger ash pieces out of his hair.

"Sara?" Neal's eye's slowly opened, they where glassy and hollow as he looked up at her. "You OK?"

She nodded her head, she could feel tears welling up in her eyes, and she didn't dare speak at the moment. Neal slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, inching back so he was next to her, and placed his good arm around her. Sara let her head drop down to rest on his shoulder, as she wrapped both arms around him.

"Where's Peter?" There was a hint of panic in his voice as he asked the question.

"He went to find something to cut your anklet with." She mumbled into his shirt, without lifting her head.

"Alright." He relaxed a little as he reassured himself that Peter wasn't trapped in the fire.

"What?" Sara picked up her head and looked at him when she felt his body suddenly tense back up.

"My anklet..." He regrettably let go of Sara, and reached down to pull up his pant leg, confirming his fear. "Somebody already cut it."

"It's gone?" Sara's tone was one of alarm. "How did they know..."

"I don't know." Neal slowly pushed himself to his feet, holding out his hand for Sara to do the same. "Let's find Peter. We've got to get out of here."

They hadn't made it more than a few steps, when Neal was regretting getting up. His head started to spin, and the dizziness was threatening to put him back on the ground; Sara kept an arm around his middle to help steady him. He was relieved to look up and see Peter's silhouette against the flames, headed back towards them.

"I couldn't find anything. The shed is just about burnt to the ground." Peter's tone was one of defeat.

"It doesn't matter. Somebody's already cut it." Neal felt his body sway, and held on to Sara as tightly as he could.

Peter clenched his hand and shoved it down in his pocket. He could feel the anger and frustration starting to take control, and he desperately needed to stay calm and focused. If Neal's anklet had been cut, then the team would already be looking for them. He just hoped they weren't too far away on a wild goose chaise

"Sirens." Sara blurted out, turning her head to look behind her. "I can hear sirens."

"I hope they're friendly." Neal nodded to Peter. "I bet you don't have your ID anymore."

"Shit. If I did, it was in my jacket pocket." Peter looked past Neal and Sara, down the long driveway. The sirens were getting louder, and he could see the flashing lights as they came down the road. "This ought to be interesting."

Neal could tell by the look on Sara's face that she hadn't figured out what he and Peter were talking about. He decided it would be better not to point out that they were standing in front of a burning house and barn that had belonged to someone fairly well known in the community. Or, the high likely hood that the properties' owner would probably be found among the rumble once the flames were put out. They hadn't been too far from being found in the ruble themselves, and the thought sent a shiver through his body.

"You alright Neal?" Sara had felt him tremble.

"Just need to sit down again." He let her help him back down to the ground, and he held his injured arm tightly against his body with his other hand. The pain from the shoulder was getting unbearable again. Sara found herself a spot on the ground next to him, and they watched quietly as Peter started towards the police cruisers pulling in. Neal closed his eyes, and sucked in a deep breath, trying to stuff the pain back, concentrating on the feeling of Sara's hand gently rubbing circles on his back. He could hear the pumps of the firetrucks starting up, and the combined noise of them and the fire make it impossible to hear anything else. He opened his eyes when he could no longer feel Sara next to him, only to find her being held by a police officer. It wasn't but a slit second later, and he has being roughly hauled to his feet. He could see Sara trying to say something, but he couldn't hear her. He frantically looked around for Peter, finding him still standing next to the farthest police cruiser, his own hands cuffed behind his back. Suddenly his arm was jerked back behind him, sending a painful shock though his body, and he felt the cold steel of handcuffs being tightened around his wrists. The pain was more than his mind could take. The last thing he saw was Sara screaming to him, before he black out again.


	12. Chapter 12

I don't own White Collar, or the characters... blah...blah...blah... Please be kind... re[view]...

* * *

Chapter Twelve

Peter watched as the officer unceremoniously hoisted Neal up from the ground, Sara was being held back by another officer while she was kicking and screaming. He saw his partner's face twist in pain as his arms were wrenched behind him. If the officer hadn't been holding him up, Peter knew Neal would have collapsed to the ground. The uniformed man slapped Neal across the face rousing him back from the unconscious, and led him back towards the cruisers. Neal's body was trembling uncontrollably, and his legs barely staying underneath him as they walked. Sara was still kicking and screaming as the other officer dragged her along behind Neal, and Peter could hear her cursing as they got closer; despite the situation, it made him smile.

"What are you smiling for?" The Lieutenant standing with Peter sneered.

"You're going to want to be a long way from here when my team gets here and takes those cuffs off of her." Peter returned. Sara looked like she wanted to claw the man's eyes out, and Peter had half a mind to let her.

"No talking." The Lieutenant warned them, as the officers dropped Sara and Neal down on the ground next to Peter. Peter eased himself down next to Neal, wedging his partner between himself and Sara; Neal looked like he could pass out again at any moment. All they could do now was wait, and hope that Diana and Jones got here soon.

The Lieutenant was busy talking to the other two officers, when he suddenly went running towards the entrance. Peter hoped it was his team arriving, but he couldn't see anything in the waning light, from where they sat.

"You OK, Neal?" Peter is whispered over to his partner.

"mmm...fine..." Neal nodded his head painfully, as he let his body slump forward slightly. "go... home now... Peter..."

"Soon, buddy. Real soon." Peter flicked a worried glance over to Sara, her face showed her concern as well, but she appeared to be otherwise alright.

"Get them up." Peter stood up when he heard the Lieutenant call over to a nearby officer, and caught sight of him walking towards them, Diana walking along beside him. The lieutenant reached over, using his key to unlock Peter's cuffs.

"Don't you touch him." Sara hissed as the Lieutenant reached for Neal.

"I've got it." Peter gently eased himself in between the Lieutenant and Neal taking the handcuff key from the man, and leaned down to free his partner, while Diana un-cuffed Sara. Neal let out a moan as the tension was released from his arm, and Sara instinctively pulled him to her protectivly, all the while glaring at the Lieutenant.

"Don't go anywhere. You and me, we're going to have a little talk." Peter grabbed the Lieutenant's sleeve to keep him from leaving, before turning to Diana. "Call him an ambulance."

"It's on its way. It'll be here in a few minutes." Peter didn't wait for an explanation, he'd ask how she'd known that later, and he dragged the Lieutenant off to find a place to chat.

Neal watched Peter walk away, only briefly flicking his eyes up to Diana, before closing them, trying to will the pain away. He could hear Sara whisper something into his ear, but he didn't pay close attention. He was having enough trouble staying conscious, although he wasn't trembling as hard now that his arm wasn't pulled behind his back anymore. He let himself slump down against her, concentrating on her familiar comforting scent.

"When did you say the ambulance would be here?" Sara turned her attention to Diana, who was still standing guard above them.

"I think it's here. Hang on." Diana waited until Sara nodded approvingly, and then disappeared around the other side of the car.

After Peter was done venting his frustrations to the Lieutenant, he sent the chastised man off to coordinate with the fire department. He was relieved to find that the ambulance had arrived, and the paramedics already had Neal on a gurney, ready to load him and head for the hospital. Sara was still at his side, watching over him, his hand still firmly enclosed in hers. Neal pulled free as Peter approached, pulling the oxygen mask from his face.

"Peter..."

"Nope, you put that back on. We'll talk when I get to the hospital." Peter reached over, and placed the oxygen mask back in position, carefully smoothing Neal's hair away from the wound over his eye. He saw anxiety creep into Neal's eyes at the statement. "Sara's going with you. I need to stay here for a little while."

Peter nodded to the EMTs and watched as they loaded Neal into the ambulance before turning to Sara.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of him." Sara patted Peter on the arm.

"Like you did the other night? I don't think he's up to it." Peter teased, and was glad to see a slight smile on her face, as Sara climbed into the back of the ambulance.

"Where are you headed?" Peter asked the driver.

"We go to St. Mary's from here."

"Alright, thanks." Peter smiled, knowing Neal would be in good hands there.

.*~*~*~*~*.

Peter slowly walked down the familiar pale yellow hallways that made up the first floor of St. Mary's hospital, and headed for the elevators. Sara had called him earlier, and told him that Neal was being admitted over night, and had given him the room number. As he entered the elevator, he shifted the brown paper bag he was carrying, and placed the large duffel bag on the floor at his feet so he could push the button for the third floor. It had been past nine by the time he had finished at the crime scene, and dropped in to check on his wife, but Elizabeth had not been able to get away from the event she was overseeing. She had however, packed them a dinner; the aroma wafting out of the bag was making his stomach growl. The elevator chimed to let him know he had arrived at his floor, and he picked up the duffel bag of clothes he had picked up for Neal and Sara, and headed for Neal's room. His worry started melting away as he approached the room; the door was open, and there was laughter coming from inside.

The laughter stopped as he walked into the room, three sets of eyes watched him as he put the bags he was carrying down. Sara sat in a chair pulled up to the far side Neal's bed; she had showered, and was dressed in pink hospital scrubs. Doctor Matthews was standing leaning on the edge of the bed. Peter smiled at the sight of the young doctor, his presence was comforting; the young surgeon had more than once saved Neal's life, and Peter was glad to have him here once again.

"You better have clothes in one of those bags." Sara started crossing the room towards him, and he pointed to the duffel bag sitting in the chair. She grabbed it, and headed for the bathroom.

"Evan." Peter acknowledged the doctor. "Thanks again."

"Hey, no problem." The surgeon was dressed in slacks, collared shirt and a white lab coat. He look more rested and relaxed than Peter could remember seeing him in a long time.

"There's enough food in there if you would like some." Peter pointed to the bag as he moved towards the bed. He let his eyes run down his partner. Neal's color had returned to his face, and there was a sparkle once again in his brilliant blue eyes. Peter imagined that he had had a shower as well, since there was no trace of soot or ash anywhere on him. His left arm was held closely to his chest in a sling, an oxygen tube under his nose, and an IV in his right arm, but otherwise he looked fine.

"Have you found out about Ms. Bennett?" Neal asked, his tone slightly lowered.

"No, not yet." Peter shook his head. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Neal shrugged, the smell of the food was enticing. "So, what did Elizabeth pack for dinner?"

"I don't know." Peter laughed. "But she said you'd like it."


	13. Chapter 13

I don't own White Collar or the characters... blah... blah... blah... Please be kind... re[view]...

**A/N: Alright, since the world _didn't_ end... I guess you guys would like another chapter, huh? Hope this is enough to hold you guys over... big 2 day show this coming weekend, so I may disappear until after that!**

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Chapter Thirteen

Neal watched intently as Peter pulled the aluminum packages of food out of the paper bag. Whatever was in there, smelled like heaven compared to the smells of the hospital. Peter stayed unusually quiet, as he had been since his arrival, but Neal just dismissed it. He figured Peter didn't want to talk about the case in front of the doctor. Dr. Matthews sat relaxing in one of the chairs at the table, unable to turn down the offer of real food. Neal almost wished the doctor would have excused himself, there were so many questions that he wanted to ask Peter. With the pain from his shoulder gone, his mind was racing; he couldn't keep from replaying everything that had happened. Peter picked up the plate of food he had been preparing and slowly turned back towards the bed. As he took a step towards Neal, he suddenly stopped, looking over at Neal with a confused and hollow expression.

"PETER!" Neal frantically tore at the bed linens with his one good arm, unable to untangle himself, watching in what seemed like slow motion as Peter's knees buckled underneath him. Peter dropped the plate of food and collapsed onto to the floor.

"Peter?" Dr. Matthews sprang out of the chair he had been sitting in, quickly crossing the short distance to where Peter lay. He efficiently went about checking Peter's vitals. "Stay where you are, Neal."

"What's going on?" Sara asked as she emerged from the bathroom; taking in the scene in the room, she crossed over to where Neal was, grabbing hold of the hand he was using to try and untangle himself. "Let the doctor work."

"Hit that red call button." Dr. Matthews motioned to Sara, as he opened the cabinet behind him, removing an oxygen mask. He hooked it up, and placed it over Peter's nose; all the while, he kept calling Peter's name, rechecking his pupils, and looking for injuries.

"What's going on?" Neal inched himself closer to the edge of the bed, helplessly gazing down at his unconscious mentor.

"I'm not…" The doctor paused mid sentence as his hand ran across dried blood in the back of Peter's hair. "Did he hit his head?"

"I didn't think so." Sara answered. "Its all kind of a blur. Everything happened so fast."

The doctor just nodded, turning and talking quietly to the nurse that had come into the room. She disappeared back out of the room, returning after a moment with a few more nurses, a gurney and some supplies. Neal watched as Dr. Matthews fixed a white collar snugly around Peter's neck and then slowly and carefully helped the nurses lift his still unconscious partner onto the gurney.

"Stay here." Dr. Matthews warned Neal, and then left the room with the nurses, and Peter.

Neal starred at the open doorway for a few minutes, the situation almost seeming unreal. In the few hours that it had been since they had escaped from the fire, Peter had seemed fine. He couldn't just sit here, not knowing what was going on. Someone was going to have to get in contact with Elizabeth, and he didn't think it should be the hospital. He removed the oxygen tube from his nose and carefully started picking at the tape holding the IV needle in his arm.

"What are you doing?" Sara asked rhetorically as she reached over to try and stop him. "You're staying here, and doing as the doctor said."

"Are my clothes in there?" He ignored her statement, signaling to the duffel bag that Peter had brought.

"Yes, but…damn it, Neal." He managed to keep out of her reach, as he used his one good arm to push himself out of the bed.

"Help me, or leave me alone." He said flatly, his blue eyes held a dark bitterness, as he watched her to see what she would do.

"Fine." She wanted to be angry him, but she just couldn't, his attitude was understandable with the current situation. She grabbed the duffel bag, and headed over to shut the door. "Hang on."

.*~*~*~*~*.

"Damn it, Peter. Open your eyes." Neal whispered as he leaned over his partner. Elizabeth sat in the chair next to him; Sara stood just behind them making sure Neal was all right on his feet.

"It's alright, Neal." Elizabeth reached up and placed a trembling hand on his arm. "Sit down."

"I…" Neal glanced between the two woman, and then back to Peter. Things felt like they were spinning out of control. He needed to do something, but he didn't know what. He eased himself down into the chair next to Elizabeth, not wanting to admit how glad he was to be sitting down again. "For God's sake Peter, cowboy up."

"Neal…" Sara batted at his arm disapprovingly, as she finally took her own seat. Neal didn't respond. He didn't take his eyes off Peter.

"ne…al…" It was just a whisper, but it made them all spring from their chairs, Neal cursing under his breath as the effort put a strain on his shoulder. Peter's eyes flickered a few times, and then slowly opened just a little. He squinted, straining to clear his vision, as he weakly pointed a finger at Neal, his voice low and hoarse. "you're supposed to be in bed…"

"Yeah… well… somebody else needed it more." Neal used his good arm to pull Elizabeth over in front of him. "Look who finally got off of work."

"El…"

"Hey, hon." Elizabeth reached up and tenderly ran a hand through his hair.

"what happened?" Peter looked questioningly between the three standing in front of him, as he examined the IV in his arm and the oxygen tube in his nose. "How long have I been out?"

"You…ah…" Neal wanted to tell Peter what an idiot he had been for not telling anyone what had happened back on the farm, but he held his tongue.

"Almost ten hours. Dr. Matthews had you in a coma to let the drugs work. He said you passed out from, what did he call it…cerebral edema…from a hit to the back of your head." Elizabeth eased herself down on the edge of the bed, gently taking his hand into hers.

"Yeah, apparently, your head isn't as hard as we previously thought." Neal teased, trying to ease the tension in the room. He was glad when he got the tiniest bit of a smirk out of Peter. "Peter, why didn't you tell anyone?"

"I… just…" Peter couldn't put it into words, but he looked up at his younger partner, and he knew Neal understood. Things had happened so quickly, and Neal had been in bad shape. Once his team had arrived, he'd just kicked into agent mode, and hadn't looked back. A headache and some dizziness had seemed minor compared to how Neal had been. There was something else, though, as he looked at Neal. Something was weighing on Neal's mind, something Peter could tell Neal wasn't going to say in front of Elizabeth. He looked pleadingly at his wife. "Elizabeth, will you and Sara give Neal and I a minute?"

"Sure, honey." She was confused, but obliged. Peter and Neal watched the two women leave the room in silence.

"What aren't you saying, Neal?" Peter could tell Neal was waging an internal war.

"All three of us tested for trace amounts of tranquilizers." He fidgeted with the strap on his sling. He wasn't sure how much he should tell Peter, how much Peter could handle. Dr. Matthews had warned him not to stress Peter. "We weren't supposed to make it out of that fire… I think they…well, when I… I'm pretty sure… when they grabbed Sara and I... They knew I wasn't Nick Halden."

"How do you know?" Peter tried to push himself up onto his elbows, but gave up when his head started to spin.

"I don't. It's just a feeling. It was like the guy _knew_ which arm to grab… it was just the way he said it… 'see how you like this'… and he laughed." A shiver ran down his back as he recounted the memory, and he absently rubbed his arm.

"I don't know how they could have found out, Neal. We're pretty careful about those kind of things…"

"The husbands a politician right? Any chance he could have known Jennings?"


	14. Chapter 14

I don't own White Collar, or the characters... blah...blah...blah... Please be kind...re[view]...

**A/N: Short and sweet, but here you go. I am still drained from this past weekend, but hopefully a little thrashing will get me going again ;-P Enjoy!**

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Chapter Fourteen

"Neal Caffrey." The voice was menacing as the man placed a hand under his chin, lifting it so that they were face to face. He could barely hear the man over the pounding in his head, and he squinted his eyes to try red haze from his vision. "I expected more. Put him in the other room. And, tie him tight."

He let his head hang, and his eyes droop closed, as the two men holding him drug him down a dark hallway. His body trembled from the pain of having his arms held brutally behind his back. He desperately desired to just pass out; escape into the darkness where there would be no pain. She had told him not to leave the apartment. Peter had told him not to do anything stupid. Why hadn't he listened? Because, he told himself, you never listen, you always have to go get yourself into trouble. And this time, Peter couldn't come running to the rescue, the thought made his stomach tighten. This time, there might not be a rescue; the thought filled his head with fear.

They pulled him into a small dark room, throwing him unceremoniously down into a chair, jarring his body and causing him to yelp in pain. The man in front of him pulled a pistol, pressing it firmly to his temple, while the other man roughly yanked his arms back, securing his wrists tightly with a zip tie. The second man the proceeded to zip tie each of his legs to the legs of the chair, before exiting the room.

"You an' me, we're gonna have a little fun." The man smiled an evil toothless smile, as he tucked the gun into his pants. The man delivered a powerful fist into Neal's gut. Neal couldn't suppress another yelp as he gasped for air. The man just stood over him, laughing. "I sure do hope boss gets stuck in traffic."

.*~*~*~*~*.

Peter woke to a bright light being shown into his eyes, and he batted at it with his hand. It took him a minute to focus his eyes, and realize he was looking up at Dr. Matthews. The young surgeon looked worn and worried, and the room was eerily silent. Peter shifted his gaze off to the left, looking to where he last remembered Elizabeth being. Her chair was empty, but he found her across the room in front of the windows standing with Diana and Jones. They all shared Dr. Matthews's expression; something was very wrong.

"Where's Neal?" His voice was raspy, and he watched as Dr. Matthews quietly reached over to the table, retrieving a cup of water and handing it to him. He took a sip, trying to clear his throat as he desperately looked over to Diana. "Where's Neal?"

They didn't answer him, but continued to talk quietly. The air in the room felt thick with tension. He couldn't hear what they were saying, and he could feel the frustration building up inside of him. He looked back towards the doctor, who was still sitting on the edge of the bed, keeping a silent eye on him. The events of the day or so were all were starting to jumble together, and he was having trouble recalling them in any clear order. But he knew that Neal had been here, and Sara had been with him. He let his eyes scan the rest of the room, discovering that Sara was no where to be found either. He let his eyes settle back on the man in front of him; his tawny brown hair was disheveled, and his face was distorted with an obvious anxiety.

"Where. Is. Neal?" Peter tried to make his voice as stern as he could, the effort back firing on him, as his voice cracked.

"He…Well, Sara…" Diana walked up, placing a comforting hand on the doctor's shoulder. As she turned her attention towards him, her expression was strained. Peter could tell she wasn't comfortable telling him what she was about to.

"Peter…" She paused trying to figure out the best way to tell him. "Neal is missing. His tracker was cut about two hours ago."

"I don't understand. He wasn't supposed to go anywhere." Peter could feel his hands start to shake, and his head was spinning.

"You have to stay calm, Peter." Dr. Matthews placed a hand on his arm, when he started to try and sit up.

"What the hell happened?" Peter shot a furious glare at Diana. He wasn't feeling calm, they had just told him his injured partner was missing.

"I took him home to change his clothes." Peter jumped at the sound of her voice, not having seen Sara approach the bed. "He wasn't supposed to leave the apartment. I was only gone for a few minutes. He must have snuck out."

"You think?" Peter could feel the anger rising up in him, as he turned back to Diana. "Why are you still here? Go find him."

.*~*~*~*~*.

A hand connected hard across the side of his face, jolting him from the painless darkness he had been hiding in. He could feel a warm trickle of blood coming from the stitches above his eye, and he tilted his head to keep it from running down into his eye. Every movement his body made sent fire through his shoulder; his arms still tightly restrained behind his back. He had made a mental account of the room before he had passed out, and he had yet to figure a way out of all of this. The room was dimly lit, and he was seated in a chair that was bolted to the floor. There were no windows, the walls appeared to be made of cinder block, and the rest of the room had been striped clean.

"I told you." The man in front of him grinned, showing the three teeth he had left, and slapped him hard again. "No sleeping, boss is coming."

"Remind me again, who that is?" Neal returned with some venom in his voice.

"You think you're funny don't you?" Neal saw the man form a fist, and tried unsuccessfully to dodge it, as it slammed into his stitches; the blood starting multiple rivers down the side of his face.

"That's enough." A voice Neal didn't recognize stopped the good from landing the second blow he had coming. Neal took a few deep breaths, trying to steady himself, and clear his blurring vision. The goon retreated out of the room as the new man slowly made his way over. He was tall and slender, neatly trimmed and styled blonde hair framed his sun-tanned face. He was dressed in a tailored charcoal three piece suit, and a perfectly tied tie. As he got within a few feet, Neal recognized him.

"Senator Thompson." Neal smiled back in the man's direction. "It's about time you showed up. Didn't want to let your goon have all the fun."

"Oh, don't worry. He was just warming you up for me." A wickedness crossed the man's face, turning the corners of his lips up in an evil grin, as he eased himself out of his suit coat.


	15. Chapter 15

I don't own White Collar, or the characters...blah...blah...blah... Please be kind...re[view]...

**A/N: Wow, sorry it's been sooo long! We been busy, busy, busy! Tornado, then the kitchen had to get torn apart, middle of show season... it's just been crazy! We're getting ready to go into our qualifiers, but I am hoping to be able to write some. Bare with me!**

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Chapter Fifteen

Peter waited anxiously as Elizabeth pulled the Taurus into his spot in the parking garage. It had been twenty-four hours since Neal had gone missing, and they still had nothing. Heads were going to roll when he got up to his office, if he could keep his from spinning. Elizabeth slowly pulled the keys from the ignition and turned to face him, gently running her hand down his arm.

"Are you sure you're ready for this? Dr. Matthews…" He cursed under his breath as he quickly turned to face her, causing his head to feel like it was going to flop right off his shoulders.

"No, I'm not sure I'm ready." He barely kept the anger in check. "But I don't have a choice. Neal's in trouble, El."

She nodded and sat quietly as she watched him ease himself out of the car. "I'll ride up with you."

"No." He took a deep breath to steady himself. He forced what he hoped was a reassuring smile onto his face. "I'll manage. Go on home."

Once the doors of the elevator closed, he let himself settle against the back wall, gripping the railing for support, and closing his eyes. Minutes later, he found himself glancing around the car longingly as it slowed at his floor; the usual constant monologue that Neal provided was missing, and the stillness of the air was unsettling. The bell dinged and he quietly stepped off into the glass-enclosed foyer of the FBI, all too aware that something was lacking.

He could feel the eyes on him as he made his way through the lower bullpen. The unspoken questions that lingered on the faces of the younger agents twisted in his gut. By the time he climbed the stairs and settled into his chair in his office, his head was pounding again. He braced his arms on top of his desk, settling his head into his open hands.

"Go home, Peter." He grunted in response, but didn't look up. He had known his boss, Reese Hughes for a number of years, and they had worked together for a time before Hughes had received his promotion.

"You should be flat on your back." Hughes settled himself into Peter's visitor's chair. Peter finally lifted his gaze to stare over at him, but kept his head braced with his hands; on any other day he would have been looking at Neal, and the thought was like a knife turning in his gut.

"He didn't run." Peter almost didn't recognize his own voice when it came out. It was the medication he was on, he told himself, that made him feel so out of body.

"Nobody is saying he did." Hughes kept his tone even. He was half tempted to haul Peter out of the office himself, but he understood the need to work. He let the silence linger a moment longer before continuing. "Diana and Jones brought Mrs. Thompson in for questioning. She lawyered up, and is refusing to cooperated. They've got her down in holding, but we can't keep her much longer."

"And the Senator?"

"Nobody seems to know where he is." Hughes rolled his eyes and gave his shoulders a shrug.

"Convenient." Peter eased himself back in his chair, grateful when the room remained still and in focus.

"The whole team is working around the clock, Peter. You should go home." Hughes rose to his feet, but kept his eyes on Peter's. "We all want to bring him home safe."

"If I go home, than its not the whole team, is it?" Peter watched as Hughes sighed in defeat and quietly left the office. He turned to his computer, and brought up case file on the night of the fire.

.*~*~*~*~*.

He could smell the metallic scent of flesh blood, as he surfaced from the black hole his mind had been hiding in. His eyelids felt heavy as he coaxed them open, and his head lolled on his shoulders; he barely had the strength to lift his head up. They had left him in the dark, and he had no idea how long he had been out. His shoulder ached with renewed fervor, telling him that they had likely re-dislocated it, he could feel a trickle of blood still oozing from the stitches above his eye. But those were both old injuries, and his mind was registering new aches all over. As he sucked in a deep breath, the shooting pain in his side let him know that they had broken his freshly healed ribs. He ran his tongue across his swollen lips to wet them, tasting dried blood. There was a pounding in his head that reminded him of waves violently crashing onto the beach, and he started to regret being awake, he could feel the nausea coming and knew he couldn't stop it. Once he was done being sick, his ears were ringing and every inch of his body screamed in agony. He let his head hang off the back of his shoulders as he drew breaths through his clenched teeth, and tried to think of something – anything else. He drifted in to the dark with the image of her red hair and green eyes smiling sleepily back at him.

.*~*~*~*~*.

It was well past end of shift, when Elizabeth stepped of the elevator on the 21st floor. The FBI offices were lit up like daylight, and agents bustled from one side of the room to the other in what looked like controlled chaos. She stopped and stood looking down at the empty chair at Neal's desk, grief tied a tight knot in her gut as she let her gaze shift up to the second floor where she could she her husband through the glass front of his office. He was pale, and had one hand pressed firmly to his temples while he squinted at the computer screen. Even though he had agreed to come home with her when she was through with her appointments, she knew it would still be a struggle to get him out.

"Diana. Any news?" She asked hopefully as she caught sight of the familiar face.

"No. Nothing concrete. Peter's been trying to get a search warrant for the Senator's properties, but hasn't had any luck." Elizabeth turned her gaze up to watch her husband.

"Is he…OK?"

"He seems alright. He isn't going to want to leave. I can bring him home later if you like."

"Yeah…alright." She nodded, and stayed quiet for a moment, contemplating. "Call me if he…"

"I will." Diana put a reassuring hand on Elizabeth's arm. Elizabeth turned and headed back the way she came.

Peter watched her walk back through the glass doors and push the button for the elevator. Part of him wanted to go with her; his head was pounding and he was tired – more so than he could remember being in a long time. But he couldn't leave. He couldn't leave Neal. He could only imagine what they were doing to his partner at that very moment, what kind of pain he was in. He turned his attention to the phone, willing it to ring. The identification on the bones found in the fire should have been in. He had been hounding the medical examiner all afternoon. He knew it wasn't much, but they didn't have much to go on, and without some string to tug on, he wasn't getting a warrant. The ring of the phone startled him, and he had to take a slow breath before he answered.

"Burke."

"Agent Burke? Hanover here. I've got the results you were asking about. The bones recovered in the fire do not match Ms. Bennett's medical records." Peter felt his stomach do a flip, but he wasn't sure whether he should be relieved or concerned.

"Were you able to identify the remains?"

"Not as yet. It's going to take some time to run the search. It'll be tomorrow morning at the earliest."

"Alright, thanks for getting back to me." Peter ended the call, and swiveled his chair to stare out the back glass of his office. The city bustled down below, people going home from work, or back out for a night on the town. The medical examiner's findings didn't sit well with him. Either Ms. Bennett had been the one to set the fire and kill the unidentified, or she was being framed. But, at this point, there wasn't much evidence left after the fire had turned the property into a large pile of gray ash. A knock on the door made him pull his attention from the file, and he looked over to find Diana standing in the doorway.

"Your call come in?" She knew he had been waiting for it desperately, and she causally walked over to his visitor's chair and eased herself down.

"The body wasn't Bennett's. Unknown female." He scrubbed his hands down his face and rest his head in them for a moment. He and Diana were close enough, that he could let his guard down around her.

"Nothing more we can do tonight. Let me take you home, boss." She watched silently as Peter warred with himself.

He let her take him home. He let himself in to the dark house and quietly snuck up the stairs to the bedroom. Elizabeth was asleep already. He undressed and slipped into bed, wrapping one arm around her, he stared up at the ceiling and thought of his partner who had saved his life only days before. And the hell he was in tonight.


	16. Chapter 16

I don't own White Collar, or the characters... blah, blah, blah... Please be kind...re[view]...

* * *

Chapter Sixteen

He could hear a female voice begging and screaming, but he wasn't sure if it was real or in his mind. He still sat in complete darkness, his arms agonizingly tied behind him, and his feet secured to the legs of the chair. He rolled his head onto his bad shoulder, hoping to ease some of the pressure. He could feel his mind drifting in and out, and he knew he would have to get it clear if he was going to get out of here. A loud shriek pierced through the dark quiet, and had him instinctively jerking to attention, straining to try and hear the sobs that followed.

It distracted him, and he didn't hear the feet approaching. The air violently whooshed out of his lungs as a fist slammed into his side, leaving him choking and gasping.

"Got you attention now?" There was a hint of laughter in the voice, and he recognized the voice of the Senator's goon.

He hadn't been aware that his eyes were open until the lights came on in the room suddenly, and he was blinded. Only one was open all the way he noticed; the left was swollen half shut. He watched the Senator saunter in through the single door, wiping his hands on a towel. There was a humor in his eyes as he approached, but Neal noticed, he clothes had fresh blood on them. Neal let his eyes flick over to the doorway, even though he knew he couldn't see through to the other side.

"You want a go at that sweet thing?" A wicked grin spread across the Senator's face. "Sorry, I'm just keeping her all for myself. Hold him down." He ordered his man, as he pulled a syringe out of his pocket.

Neal found he didn't have the strength left to struggle, he had yet to catch his breath from the last punch to the ribs. He watched helplessly as the needle was pressed to his vein and the plunger pushed. It didn't take long before the room was spinning into a maze of blurry color and sound. Everything seemed suddenly brighter and louder and it made his head pound. He tried to squint his eyes, tried to bring the room back into focus, but it was no use. His mind was slipping, and he was all too aware of every ache and pain searing through his body. He felt his restraints release, felt his body drop to the floor. He rolled to his stomach, tucking the injured arm under him where it felt protected and tried to concentrate on the coolness of the concrete floor beneath him. Someone was screaming. He knew he should get up, try and move, but he was slipping into darkness.

Neal jerked his eyes open. He was kneeling in the corner, and he wasn't sure how he had gotten there. Panicked hazel eyes looked back at him as the young woman tried to shrink farther back into the corner.

"What…" Her face was bloodied, her clothes where torn and barely covered her, and she was whimpering and trembling. He lifted his hands in front of his face, and found they were covered in blood as well.

He flew backwards, the movement making every part of his body scream in agony. He didn't stop until he was up against the opposite wall. He shook his head trying to clear his mind, his vision. When he looked up towards where the girl was, she was gone. He could hear laughter echoing inside his head. The lights were bright, too bright. He couldn't breathe. Someone was crying. The laughing and the crying were getting louder, and his head throbbed. No matter how hard he squeezed his eyes back shut, he couldn't make the blinding light go away. He tried to suck air in, but it just stuck in his throat. He wanted to pass out, find the darkness and crawl away again, but his heart was racing in his chest. His whole body trembled as the pain swam through his body and took him over. He eased himself down and curled up on the cold floor.

"shut up." He whimpered, as something warm and wet rolled down his face. "just go away."

*~*~*~*~*.

Peter wiped the back of his hand across his lips as he eased himself up off the floor with the other. He knew Elizabeth had gone down to fix breakfast already, and it was just as well. He really didn't want her to know he'd been ill. He crossed slowly to the medicine cabinet, popped two of the blue pills the doctor had given him, and braced himself on the edge of the sink. As the dizziness started to subside, he checked his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were sunken, and he face was pale. There was only a small part of him that wished he hadn't checked himself out of the hospital. He had to pull it together, or Hughes would pull him off and throw him right back in. That wasn't an option right now. He wouldn't sit on the sidelines while Neal was still missing.

The doorbell rang downstairs, and he knew it was Diana coming to pick him up. He splashed some cold water on his face, forced himself to stand up straight, and tightened his tie. He took the stairs one at a time, keeping a white knuckled grip on the banister as he descended. Diana kept her face blank and nodded to him. If she could see through his facade, she wasn't letting on.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Elizabeth came around the corner, with a travel mug full of coffee.

"I'll get something later." He took the coffee, leaning over his brushed his lips gently across hers. "I'll call as soon as we know something. Don't worry, Hon."

She folded her hands and pursed her lips as she watched him leave. She knew he wasn't quite up to working, but she also knew there was no way he could not. She said a silent prayer he'd make it through the day still on his feet, and turned to get herself ready to go.

"Have we heard from the coroner, yet?" Peter kept his gaze out the passenger window.

"No, not yet. But…" Diana looked over at her boss, he didn't look well, and she knew what she was about to tell him was only going to upset him. "NYPD picked up Senator Thompson this morning."

"Picked him up?" Peter's cold glare was like a punch to the gut as he turned towards her. "They weren't supposed to make contact, they weren't supposed to get near him. They were only supposed to surveil him. God. Damn. It."

Peter braced one hand on the dash of the car until the lightheadedness pass. He took a deep steadying breath before continuing. "We have nothing to use against him. Nothing to force him to tell us where Neal is."

"We'll find him, boss."

When Peter's cell phone started ringing, they both nearly jump out of their skin. He fumbled for it in his coat pocket, checking the caller ID before answering.

"Hanover. Tell me you have something."

"We have a positive match on the body. Her name is Jenny Lingstrom. She was employed by the late Mr. Thompson as a groom a few years back. Don't know if she was still working for them or not, I haven't been able to contact her family yet."

"Alright. Can you send me a copy of everything you have?"

"Sure. I'll fax it on over."

"Thanks." Peter ended the call and shut his eyes, steadying himself before making the next phone call.

It didn't take long to convince Hughes to ask for a warrant for the Thompson's properties, but Peter knew, it would take considerably longer to convince a judge to let them go snooping around a Senator. He was anxious and unsettled by the time he reached his office. He wanted to pace off some of the nervous energy, but didn't dare stay on his feet. He sincerely hoped he was going to need this energy for a search before much longer. He settled himself in at his desk and tried to concentrate on the file the coroner had sent over on Jenny Lingstrom.

.*~*~*~*~*.

He couldn't stop the shriek from escaping as rough hands drug him up from the ground. He didn't know how long he'd been curled up there, but the lights and sounds had eventually dulled, giving way to the welcomed dark that was unconsciousness. The shoulder and the rib screamed back to life when his body was lifted off of his feet and shook. He blinked a few times and levered his one good eye open, finding himself looking directly into the mean dark eyes of the big burly assistant.

"Can I help you?" He hissed, loosing precious air, but he couldn't resist sneering at the man.

"Change in plans." The man wrapped his thick stumpy fingers tightly around the back of Neal's neck, dragging him forward across the room. "We're going for a ride."

"OH…where to?" Fresh blood started seeping from his cracked lip, and he wiped at it with his tongue.

The man led him from the room. He noticed there was another room across the narrow hallway. The door was open, and the room was empty. A vague memory of a woman's screams lingered forebodingly in the back of his mind. He was taken through a series of doors, and into what looked like a large garage of some sort. There was a van parked in the middle, the side door open.

"You think you're funny?" The man's finger nails dug in deeper as he growled. "You won't be thinking that for much longer. You won't be thinking much of anything for much longer."

The man shoved him towards the van, and he threw his arms out to catch himself out of reflex. He swore an oath as the searing pain shot through his left arm. He clutched at it with his good hand, as he tried to right himself. He felt the hard knock to the back of his head, felt his vision blur as he pitched forward into the van, and blacked out on the cold metal floor.


	17. Chapter 17

I don't own White Collar or the characters... blah, blah, blah... please be kind...re[view]...

**A/N: Could I pppllleeeaaassseee have some rain with this thunder? Do a rain dance for me y'all...**

* * *

Chapter Seventeen

The hour drive north to the Thompson's farm had been excruciating. Another team had headed for their mansion on the other side of town, but Peter wanted the farm. At just under a hundred acres, he was sure there were plenty of places the Senator could go unnoticed. And nobody would question him being there, or any extra vehicles going in and out. The placed stayed fairly busy on a regular basis. But Peter was starting to think he'd missed his target, so far all the buildings were clear, and they hadn't come up with a scrape of new evidence. He say on a little bench at the back end of the hallway, looking out over the bright green fields and watched as the sky turned several shades of brilliant reds. He heard the familiar click of Diana's heeled boots coming down the concrete aisleway, but didn't turn to face her.

"Boss." She stood next to him, following his gaze out over the field where other agents were still searching the grounds. "Harper thinks they may have found Ms. Bennett."

"Alive?"

"Yeah. They're in a building on the back of the property." She reached down and placed a supportive hand on his shoulder. "Let me drive you back there."

Agent Harper was leaning against the wall next to one of the many doors that lined the dim narrow hallway. His dark blue suit pants and FBI wind breaker hung loosely off of his lanky frame. He was still green, in Peter's eyes, but the kid had a good head on him. At the sight of his superior coming towards him, he pushed off the wall and took a few steps forward.

"What have you got?" Peter's voice was strained and Diana ran a concerned glance over him.

"We just got the door open a few minutes ago. Ms. Bennett is in there. She's pretty beat up, and disoriented. Lisa… I mean, Agent Wright is in there with her. She was pretty nervous with me in the room. The EMTs are on their way.

"Alright. I need to talk with her." Harper nodded, but didn't clear out of Peter's way.

"There is something else, I think you need to see first." Harper turned and headed down the hallway, pausing outside a door a few rooms down on the opposite side.

It was a small room with a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling, directly over a chair that was bolted to the floor. There were blood spatters on the cinder block walls, and in various spots on the floor. Against the back wall, amongst the smears and spatters on the ground, was a bloody handprint. Peter crouched down, and closed his eyes. The fingers were long and slender, but the size was too large to be Ashley's. His heart sank, envisioning his partner lying here hurt and helpless. And he had been too late. Neal was gone.

"I want a team to go over both of these rooms. I want every inch of this building analyzed."

"Yes sir." Harper nodded, watching as Peter slowly rose and walked back out of the room.

.*~*~*~*~*.

Neal wasn't sure where he was, but his head pounded, and he couldn't catch his breath. Rough hands drug him to his feet, and he staggered forward as he was pushed along the uneven ground. Through his one good eye, he could see the sun starting to set, and knew if he was going to get away, it was going to have to be soon. The man behind him gave him another good push, and he stumbled forward. Tripping over a branch, his body lurched forward, and he was unable to catch himself before he slammed into the ground. When he painstakingly rolled to his back he found himself face to face with a semi-automatic pistol.

"Boss said to make sure you die slow and painful." The man lowered the gun, and sent Neal an evil grin.

His body jerked at the sound of the gun. What air he had managed to suck in rushed out of him as the hot searing pain shot through his body, overloading his senses. He coughed, trying to find the air, choking on it and the blood now rising up. He curled himself into a ball, pressing a hand to the wound, the warm sticky blood gushing out around it. There was a loud roaring in his ears, and his vision blurred with the fiery red of the sky. But he heard the spray of gravel as the van took off and left him alone. Left him there alone, in the dark, to die. His body shuddered, and he closed his eyes when he felt himself slipping.

"_Peter is going to call you. He's going to ask where I was."_

"_And what do you want me to tell him?" There was a hint of laughter in those brilliant green eyes as she stared back at him._

"_I want you to tell him where I was last night." He smiled back. It felt good to smile at her, without purpose, without an angle._

"_You want me to tell him everything?" She laid a hand on his chest and smiled back at him._

"_You could leave out the best parts." He ran a hand down her arm. He had to go, or Peter would be looking for him. But he desperately wanted to stay right there, with her._

_He turned, and found himself face to face with Peter. "You don't trust me."_

"_I know you didn't hurt her. I know you wouldn't do that. My hands are tied Neal." Peter stalked away, paced back. "It's this or they throw you in prison. Your choice."_

"_House arrest? Might as well be…" Peter scowled over at him, stopping him mid sentence._

"_You can hardly equate being here with being in prison." He shook a furious finger at Neal. "Don't start. I went to the wall to keep you out."_

_Neal carefully dropped himself down into a chair. "I guess I can entertain myself for…"_

"_I don't know. I don't know how long it's going to take." Peter's face was red with fury as he leveled his gaze with Neal's. "Grow up. The least you could be is thankful."_

_Peter stalked out of the apartment, slamming the door at his back. Neal picked up the glass of wine he had poured himself, and took a slow sip. Unable to contain the anger that had been building up inside, he let the glass fly. It smashed against the wall, sending red liquid and glass shards scattering across the room. _

He coughed and the pain of it woke him. The light was nearly gone from the sky, and his body felt cold and disconnected. He could taste the metallic copper of blood in his mouth, and he spit it out. You have to get up, he told himself. He let out a muffled scream as he pushed himself to his knees. He kept his trembling left hand pressed to the wound in his gut, as he reached out for the nearby branch and pulled himself up. He felt the whole world spin, and the darkness threaten to take back over as he braced himself against the tree. He looked around, hoping to see a light – anything – that would tell him which way to go. There was nothing, and nobody. The clouds masked the night sky, making it impossible to tell which direction he was headed, as he staggered off into the dark.

.*~*~*~*~*.

Peter sat in the small, stuffy waiting area outside the emergency room with his head buried in his hands. He anxiously waited to here from the attending that was taking care of Ms. Bennett. He wished he were back in the city, back where he knew the people at the hospital. Nobody at this small hospital wanted to tell him anything. He needed answers. He needed to be out there, looking for Neal. He had talked to Hughes, and knew that neither Mr. nor Mrs. Thompson was talking, they just claimed to be unaware and hid behind their attorneys. Deep down Peter wanted a go at them himself, but he knew he wasn't up to it.

Diana lowered herself into the chair next to him, and said nothing until Peter lifted his eyes to hers. "She's awake. She's in pretty rough shape. Local PD is with her right now."

"Is she talking?"

"Not yet. She's traumatized. She has a broken arm, bruising along her head and shoulders, and both legs. They're running a rape kit." Peter heard the uneasiness in her voice.

"Peter…When they removed her clothes, they found this in her pocket." Diana held up an evidence bag.

"How did she get this?" Peter took the bag, and looked through the smears of blood at Neal's consultant ID. "He was with her?"

"They don't know. She won't say." She reached out to touch his arm, but stopped short and dropped her hand to her lap. "You're exhausted. Let me take you home."

He shook his head, but kept his eyes on the badge. "No, I want to talk to her, as soon as they'll let me."

"Alright." She rose, laying a hand on his shoulder in understanding, before slipping away.

He hadn't realized he had been asleep, but he jerked awake when he heard Diana call his name. He wiped a hand over his face, scratching at the rough hair that was growing in. It took him a minute to get his mind straight, and remember where he was.

"What time is it?"

"It's just past midnight." Diana handed him a Styrofoam cup filled with coffee, and reached out to help him to his feet.

He caught the look in her eye as he stood. "What's wrong?"

"We found Neal. He stumbled up to a house a little ways from here. Scared the crap out of the family living there. Paramedics are on scene. Reports are that he's in rough shape. They're airlifting him out."

"Coming here?"

"No. They're only Trauma three here. He's going to St. Mary's."


	18. Chapter 18

I don't own White Collar or the characters... blah, blah, blah... please be kind...re[view]...

* * *

Chapter Eighteen

It was barely dawn when Peter woke. Elizabeth still lay asleep beside him on the sofa in the small private waiting room just outside the surgery wing. She murmured in her sleep as he shifted his arm and gently stroked a hand through her hair. The life flight helicopter had beaten them back to the city, and Neal had already been taken to surgery by the time he and Diana had finally arrived. So they waited. But the waiting - the not knowing - was eating away at him.

"Neal?" Elizabeth asked as Peter eased her aside so he could get up.

"No, not yet. Go back to sleep." She nodded, and curled back into the cushions.

He retrieved his cell phone from the little end table, and crossed over to the single window to look over the city as he checked for messages. He was anxious to get word from the doctors overseeing Ms. Bennett's care, there were questions he needed answers to, questions he was hoping she could answer for him. The poor woman had been traumatized, and she still wasn't talking. Peter had to resist the urge to call and check in again. He contemplated calling and waking Diana up, he thought Ms. Bennett would be more comfortable with a woman. Knowing he just had to wait, he shoved the phone down into his pocket, and looked over the sleeping city. It was only during these early hours of the morning that the city looked calm and quiet. The sun would be up soon, and with it the hustle and bustle of the city.

Peter heard the door behind him open and turning, he found himself looking across at Dr. Matthews. The young surgeon kept his fatigued eyes on Peter as he quietly walked over and took a seat in one of the chairs. He set one of the coffee cups he carried down on the table, and waited for Peter to join him. His tawny brown hair was tussled and wet, his green scrubs were damp with sweat, and his surgical mask still hung around his neck. But his hands were steady as he sipped from his cup. There wasn't a doctor Peter trusted more with Neal, than the one now sitting across from him. Knowing that didn't make it any easier to ask the important question. Peter looked down at the black liquid in the cup, stalling, unable to get the words out, fearing the answer.

"Critical. But stable for the time being." Dr. Matthews' voice was calm and quiet. "He'll be in recovery for another hour, then we'll move him to a room in the ICU."

Peter eased back in his chair. He knew Neal would have a long way to go, but just knowing he had made it through the surgery was a weight lifted off his shoulders.

The young doctor kept a studying eye on Peter, seventy-two hours before it had been Peter lying in one of the hospital's beds. He had no intention of letting him end up back there. "How's the head?"

"What's the damage?" Peter's hand was not as steady as the doctor's was as he sipped at his own coffee.

"How's the head?" Dr. Matthews repeated the question, ignoring Peter's inquiry. "Still getting ill?"

"Only in the morning." Peter gave in. Sometimes you had to give something to get something. "The headache is better."

The doctor nodded, studied his coffee thoughtfully for a moment.

"He had a body temp of 95.3, and had severe blood loss when he arrived. Bullet perforated his small colon, and liver." The doctor paused, and sipped again, watching Peter. "Fractured sinus, dislocated shoulder, two broken ribs, and a punctured lung from the beating he took."

Peter closed his eyes, and clenched his jaw. He was forced to set his cup down so that he wouldn't crush it.

"He has received four units of blood so far, we were able to remove the bullet and repair the abdominal damage. Had to insert a chest tube. Re-set his shoulder, and the ribs." The doctor shook his head and let his eyes drop to his own cup, finally letting his guard down. "He's a mess Peter, but right now, he's doing as well as can be expected. If we can stave of the infection, he's got a chance. We'll know more in 24 hours."

"You were on tonight?"

"I was. I'm off now."

"I'm glad…I'm glad they brought him here."

"The regional hospital up there just isn't set up to handle anything like this. Most of their surgeons are home in bed at that hour." The doctor allowed himself a slight smile, seeing it Peter relaxed just a bit.

"Lucky for us, you never sleep."

"Yeah…right. Sleep is over rated." Dr. Matthews lifted his cup in the air in a toast before taking another swig. "Caffeine addiction is the way to go. Did you get some sleep?"

"A little. You heading home?"

"No, I'm going to grab a bed here." The doctor stood, stretching the kinks out of his neck and shoulders. "I've told them to page me when they get ready to move him."

"Get another hour of sleep." Dr. Matthews laid an understanding hand on Peter's shoulder, gave it a little squeeze when Peter nodded in response. "I'll come get you."

.*~*~*~*~*.

The sun was high in the sky when Peter woke again. He had passed out in the recliner in the corner of Neal's room, Elizabeth had already left to take care of some business, and the room had been quiet except for the steady beep of Neal's heart rhythm. Dr. Matthews stood on the opposite side of the bed checking the read-outs on the monitors, dressed in faded blue jeans, a ratty gray t-shirt and a worn black leather jacket. His hospital ID was hung casually from his front pocket. Even dressed in street clothes, Evan Matthews held an air about him; there was no mistaking the fact that he was one of the leading young surgeons in the city. The stubble from the early hours of the morning was gone, and his eyes were clear and bright when he looked up as Peter shifted.

Peter scrubbed his hands down his own rough face as he leaned forward in the chair, letting the fog in his head clear before getting up.

"How's the kid?"

"Right where he should be." Dr. Matthews hooked his thumbs in the font pocket of his jeans and watched attentively as Peter crossed the room.

"Thanks for coming in today, Evan." The doctor smiled back and shrugged.

"I never left. My girlfriend went to Paris for a week with a group of friends, so nobody but the cat missed me."

"Girlfriend, huh? That's new." Peter absently reached down and brushed the hair back from Neal's face, and then rested his hand gently on the back of Neal's .

"Yeah, we've known each other for years. Just got serious the last couple of weeks." He couldn't keep the grin from sneaking onto his face as he thought of her. "You'd like her. She's a lawyer…"

Dr. Matthews flicked his eyes from Peter to Neal. He thought he'd seen the slightest shift of Neal's head. He pulled a slim pen light out of his inner jacket pocket, carefully lifting one eyelid and then the other to check the reactivity of Neal's pupils.

"Neal? Squeeze Peter's hand if you can hear me."

"Noth…" Peter jerked his head up and he looked across the bed at the doctor. "He did it. I felt it. He's waking up?"

"Mmm." Dr. Matthews shifted his gaze back to the monitors behind him. "May still be a while yet. But it's a good sign."

Dr. Matthews adjusted the drip rate on the IV. He was being deliberately vague with Peter. Neal wasn't out of the woods yet. There was still a lingering concern that there could be brain damage. They wouldn't know until Neal was conscious, but he was responding to stimulus, and that was a big relief. He slipped the black and chrome stethoscope from around his neck, and listened to Neal's heart. Although the beat was even, it was still weak. They would just have to give it time, and hope that the massive blood loss hadn't damaged his heart.

"You need to eat Peter. Why don't you go on down and grab us both something." He looped his stethoscope back around his neck. He didn't like the pale color creeping across Peter's face.

"I…" Peter tried to think of an excuse not to leave, but he didn't have a valid one. He knew Evan was right.

"Go on. I'll stay with him." Dr. Matthews picked up Neal's chart and eased down in the chair. "I'll call you if anything changes."

He watched the silent war on Peter's face, and let his eyes follow as Peter turned and left the room. He had become quiet fond of Neal and Peter over the last year, and he worried about both of them. He let his eyes linger over Neal's sleeping face for a moment, then kicked his feet up on the edge of the bed, checked his watch and started charting.


	19. Chapter 19

I don't own White Collar, or the characters... blah...blah...blah... Please be kind...re[view]...

* * *

Chapter Nineteen

Peter had sat down in the cafeteria to eat while he spent a frustrating forty-five minutes on the phone trying to make some progress on getting interviews done, and had had to settle for Diana promising to call as soon as anything started moving. Even though no progress had been made, focusing on the case had steadied him.

The blinds inside the front glass wall of Neal's room were closed when Peter arrived back in the ICU. Dr. Matthews still sat in the chair with his feet up on the end of the bed, his head had fallen back and rested on his shoulder, his arms were crossed over his body, Neal's chart still lay in his lap, and Peter could tell he was asleep. He spotted Sara on the far side of the bed, and felt a little guilty for not having noticed that she hadn't been there earlier. In the back of his mind he remembered that she had had a court appearance this morning. The bed guard was dropped down and she sat in a small wooden chair with her head laid on the bed next to Neal. One arm was tucked under her head; the other hand was linked with Neal's. She stirred when she heard him come in, opening her eyes to look across at Peter, but not sitting up.

Peter put the take out food container he had brought for back for Dr. Matthews on the little table before crossing the room to take his seat in the recliner behind Sara.

"How's he doing?" He whispered. Sara sat up and shrugged but kept her eyes on Neal.

"He looks like hell, but I guess he seems OK." She turned to face Peter, keeping Neal's hand linked in hers. "All the blinds were closed, and Dr. Matthews was asleep when I got here. Everything has been quiet, so I didn't want to wake him."

Peter nodded, letting his gaze settle on the doctor across the bed. "He had a long night."

"Four hours in surgery?"

"Five…and he's been here ever since..."

One of the monitors gave a short high-pitched alarm sound. Dr. Matthews' head jerked up, and he casually scanned the screen, his eyes were cool and flat, revealing nothing as he took in the numbers flashing at him.

"Everything OK?" The alarm had made Peter's heart jump into his throat, but he tried to stay calm and controlled as he stood and moved towards the bed.

"Just the pulse ox. He probably just bumped it on the inside of that sling a little bit." Dr. Matthews unfolded himself out of the chair, getting to his feet he stretched the kinks out before going over to clear the monitor.

"Neal?" Sara leaned forward, gently running her hand across his forehead and down his cheek. Parts of his face were turning various shades of green and purple, and his left eye was still a bit swollen.

A flutter of Neal's eyelids had Dr. Matthews pulling out his flashlight, and checking Neal's pupils again. "Neal? Hey, you in there, buddy?"

"ssss…saawww…" Neal shifted his head side to side. "saw…ree…"

"It's OK, don't try and talk just yet." Dr. Matthews placed a gentle hand on Neal's shoulder. He could feel the muscles trembling under his hand. "Just relax. Sara and Peter are here."

Neal's eyes fluttered again and gradually his eyelids opened to reveal his dull and hollow blue eyes. His gaze slowly shifted from Dr. Matthews, to Peter, to Sara, and settled back on Peter.

Dr. Matthews gently wrapped one hand around Neal's that was in the sling, and leaned over and took the other from Sara. "Squeeze my hands, Neal."

Neal let his gaze gradually slide back over to Dr. Matthews' face, apparently studying the man before complying. His grip was weak, but the pressure was even in both hands.

"so…rry." Neal's eyes flicked back to Sara, and he let his head fall to face her, as Dr. Matthews finished checking the rest of his vitals. "sh…d…ve…st…ed…"

"Be quiet, Neal." Peter gave him what he hoped was a stern look, even though his heart wasn't in it. It must have worked, because Neal flicked his glazed eyes up and nodded slowly at him.

"tie…rd…" Neal's eyes fluttered again, and then stayed closed.

"He'll be in and out for a bit." Dr. Matthews reached over and adjusted something on one of the computers. His phone rang, and he smiled as he checked the caller ID; silencing it, he slipped it back in his pocket.

"Go ahead." Peter gestured towards the door. "We're OK for now, right?"

"Be right outside." As Dr. Matthews flashed a grin and escaped from the room, Sara sent Peter a questioning look.

"New girlfriend. Calling from Paris."

"Ahh." She turned her attention back to Neal, gently running her hand through his hair.

Peter settled back in his spot in the recliner, and let his mind drift through the case details that were running through his head. There were so many questions, and so far there were no answers. As soon as he knew Neal would be all right, he would find them. He let his eyes droop back closed, knowing that Neal was being tended to.

.*~*~*~*~*.

Diana walked into the interrogation room, dropped the thick file folder down on the table, casually slipped off her jacket, and eased down into the chair. Her brown eyes were cool and calculating as she leaned back and stared across the table at Mrs. Thompson. The woman's hands trembled on the can of Diet Coke she held. When her eyes finally came up to look back at Diana, they were wet and red-rimmed. Oh, how far the mighty have fallen, Diana thought.

"Tell me about Jenny Lingstrom." Diana pulled the girls high school ID photo out of the file, slowly sliding it across the table.

"Bitch. No good, lying little cunt." The woman hissed, and her eyes hardened as she looked down at the photo. Her lawyer, sitting next to her in his two thousand dollar suit, quietly laid a hand on her arm, squeezed just firmly enough to tell her to watch herself.

"Oh, please… tell me how you really feel." Diana sent Mrs. Thompson a wry smile. "Don't like her much, do you?"

"Why should I? That little bitch was always running around after Stephan. Showing up to work with her tight pants and low cut shirts."

"So you had to get rid of her."

"Of course. Stephan screamed at me when I fired her. That's when I knew he was sleeping with her. Men are pathetic and weak." She turned and smiled soothingly to her lawyer and patted the top of his hand playfully. "Of course, you're an exception, Martin."

Oh, yeah. Something was going on there, all right. Mr. Thompson wasn't the only one being unfaithful.

"And when was that, when you fired her?"

"About a year ago."

"And you haven't seen her since?"

"No, why would I? I couldn't stand the little twit. But, she did have a way with the horses…which is why I put up with her as long as I did."

"At what point did you discover that she and your husband were sleeping together?" Diana noticed the woman's grip on her soda can tightened, creating little dimples in the aluminum.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you do. You want to know what I think?" Diana leaned across the table slightly, leveling her eyes with Mrs. Thompson's. "I think your husband was still sleeping with her. I think she knew what you had done, and was trying to blackmail you and your husband. I think you and your husband killed her, and threw her in Ms. Bennett's house before you torched it to try and cover it all up. And hey, throw in that pesky FBI agent and his buddies in there as well, while you're at it. They were sniffing around too close weren't they? You had to protect your little secret."

"I didn't kill anyone." Mrs. Thompson's voice shook along with her hand as she sipped from her can. "None of that was supposed to happen… you…"

The lawyer held up a hand to stop her from talking.

"I want to confer with my client."

"Talk all you want. When I come back, I'm going to nail her for insurance fraud, murder, kidnapping, kidnapping a federal agent, four counts attempted murder, and one count attempted murder of a federal agent. You can talk about that too."

Diana sent the lawyer a wicked smile as she scooped up the files and the photo, and left the room. She could hear the woman sobbing behind her as the door clicked closed.


	20. Chapter 20

I don't own White Collar or the characters... blah...blah...blah... Please be kind...re[view]...

* * *

Chapter Twenty

His mind drifted in the dark fog that was the dawn before awakening. He shifted against the rough cotton sheets, and the twinges of pain that shot through his body jerked his mind back to awareness. He was groggy as he came awake, staring up at the plain white ceiling tiles above his head in the dimly lit room. There was a cool, acidic taste from the oxygen as he breathed in, and it cleared some of the haze from his mind. He remembered he was in the hospital, but he had no idea how long he had been there. The last hours were jumbled, and the memories seemed vague and all muddled together. His left arm was stiff and tight, and he found it bound securely to his chest. As he tried to draw in a deep breath, it felt like there was a hundred pounds sitting on his chest. He tried to swallow, but the tube going in his nose and down his throat made it feel like he'd swallowed hot needles. He started to try to investigate the tubing, when Sara tightened her grip on his hand.

"Leave it." She brushed the hair out of his face, looking into the hazy blue of his eyes. They were clearer than the last time he had been awake. She smiled as she leaned over and lightly kissed his forehead. "Hey you."

"Hey." He relaxed a little as those green eyes beamed down at him. "Pe…ter?"

"He'll be back in a little while. He had some things at the office he needed to take care of."

There was a knock on the door, and Dr. Matthews stepped in. He wore a stark white lab coat over a light gray collared shirt, steel gray and black stripped tie, and black slacks. He walked across the room, casually slipping his hands into his pant pockets as he stood next to the bed and smiled down at Neal.

"You look better. How's the pain?"

"Ok…" Neal grimaced slightly as he made the effort to clear his throat, and made a motion to the red tube. "this…"

"That needs to stay in a while longer yet." He reached down and pushed a call button on the bed. A voice came through the speaker in the wall and the doctor relayed his request for a nurse.

Neal put up a silent protest when Sara stepped out of the room as the nurse came in. She wanted to call Peter with an update, and she wanted an update of her own as well. His phone went straight to voicemail, so she left him a quick message before heading back in to see Neal.

Dr. Matthews was sitting in the chair on the near side of the bed, Neal's chart lying in his lap. He glanced over at Sara as she skirted around to the far side of the bed. Neal's eyes were glazed over from the medication, but he watched her intently as she took her seat.

"He looks good." Sara looked across at the doctor. She wasn't sure if it was a question or a statement as it came out. He just smiled an easy smile back at her.

"He's doing well. It's going to be a little uncomfortable for him to talk. Those NG tubes aren't fun. Blood pressure is stable. O2 stats look good. But…" He gave Neal a steely glance. "I want that oxygen to stay on for a while longer, yet."

"It will." Sara absently reached over and took Neal's hand and squeezed gently. "You changed, you back on already?"

"Yeah. I'm on for the night. I'll be here until ten tomorrow morning." He slid Neal's chart into a holder on the wall and leaned back in his chair. "Peter coming back tonight?"

"Yeah. He should be back soon."

"Tell him I'll see him later. I'll be back after rounds to check on you again." He nodded to Neal, and stood. _Dr. Allcome to the ER, code yellow, _was announced over the intercom, and his pager went off. His whole body tensed as he read the screen. "Well, crap. Gonna be a long night."

"Let the nurses know if you need anything." Dr. Matthews ran out the door and disappeared.

"what…that…a…bout?" Neal looked questioningly over at Sara.

"I have no idea, but it didn't sound good, did it?" She tightened her grip on Neal's hand. She had dated an ER doctor in the past, and knew that in this city, code yellow meant mass casualties. The fact that Peter hadn't answered his phone now lingered like a weight in the back of her mind. She hoped he was all right.

.*~*~*~*~*.

It was a lot later than he had planned, when Peter and Elizabeth finally reached the ICU. The blinds on the room were open, and he could see Neal sitting up in bed, Sara sitting beside him. Neal said something and made a motion, and she burst into laughter. The scene made some of the tension he had been carrying slip away.

"Hey." Sara smiled and nudged Neal when she caught sight of them coming through the doorway. "We were getting worried about you guys."

"Yeah, some nasty accident shut down most of downtown for a while, so we went and got something to eat." Peter crossed over and did a mental survey of Neal. His blue eyes were nearly clear and a little mischievous behind the haze left from the pain medication. "You guys eat yet?"

"She did." His voice was rough and had a hint of crankiness to it. He had to take a few careful breaths to replace the air he had used.

"He's just mad because all he got was ice cubes."

"I won't tell you what we had then." Peter sent him a teasing smirk and pulled over a third chair.

"you…went…to…" Neal's eyes narrowed to slits. "copp…olas."

"And how did you know that?" Peter tried to hide his grin.

"smell…it…" Neal wagged a trembling finger at Peter. "on…you."

"We'll take you when you get out of here." Elizabeth leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before easing down into her chair. "We're just glad you're OK."

"yeah…I'm…." He forced a grin as he sucked in shallow breaths. "peachy."

Dr. Matthews had said it would be awhile before it felt like that weight had been lifted off his chest. He felt his head spin a little as another dose of pain medication hit his blood stream.

"You alright, Neal?" Peter had seen the change in his partner's eyes, the distant glassy look that was coming back as Neal slid down a little into the pillows.

"fine…" His voice started to slur.

"Meds must have just hit him again. He'll be out in a minute." Sara reassured Peter. "Give it half an hour or so, he'll wake back up."

"I gotta go." Sara stood, lovingly brushed her hand over his forehead before pressing her lips to his brow. She felt his grip tighten on her hand, and his eyes frantically searched her face. "I have court in the morning, remember?"

"sorry…forgot…" But he didn't let go of her hand. "don…want…you…to…go…"

"Peter and Elizabeth are here. They'll be here when you wake back up." She ran her fingers through his hair a few times, watching as his eyes fluttered a few times and then stayed closed. She turned to Peter once Neal was out. "I want to hear about the case in the morning."

"I'm driving up with Diana to talk to Ms. Bennett first thing. I'll be back in the office for a short time after that. Call me when you get out of court."

"I will. Take care of him." Sara picked up her back and with one last glance at Neal, slipped out of the room.

.*~*~*~*~*.

It was well past one, when Peter wound his way through the familiar yellow hallways, headed towards the ICU. The hospital seemed quiet today, like a sleeping giant. A cute read-headed nurse waved, and opened the glass doors as he approached, and they whisked shut behind him once he entered. The ICU was its own world, with its own rules. He smiled at the little nurse, who had let him in, while he signed the log. She was talking about a million miles an hour into the phone she had cradled in the crook of her neck, while she typed just as fast on the computer in front of her. Her voice and the clicking of the computer keys were the only noise in the area, as he crossed to Neal's room. The blinds on the front of the room were closed again. It was the only room that wasn't open to view from the nurse's station, but Peter knew that they were still monitoring.

Neal didn't stir as he slipped into the room quietly. The room lights were on but dimmed. Dr. Matthews was back in street clothes, and curled up asleep in the recliner in the far corner. Peter crossed the room, easing out of his coat, and hanging it on one of the chairs.

"You're late." The gravely voice was low, but unmistakably Neal's. Peter looked up to find himself looking into his partner's hazy blue eyes.

"Sorry. Things are pretty complicated right now." Peter eased himself down into the chair. He was glad to see Neal looking more alert. "I see you got your tube out."

"I begged." The beginnings of a smile crossed his face, as he angled his head towards the sleeping doctor. "Last thing he did before he conked."

"Mmm." Peter had talked to the young surgeon before heading out that morning. Dr. Matthews had been in one surgery after the other all night from the ten-car pile up. Peter thought it was a wonder the man had still been coherent by six am. Peter also knew he had to be back on shift in another four hours. "What time was that?"

"About eleven." Neal's eyes took on a pleading look. "You talk to Sara?"

"Yeah, I talked to her on her break. She'll be by later." Peter watched as Neal fidgeted with the sling strapping his arm to his chest. Knowing Neal, he was going to start going stir crazy. "I brought your sketch book from the office."

"Thanks. How did it go with Ms. Bennett?"

"Long drive for not much of anything. She's still pretty shook up, doesn't remember a whole lot yet." Peter narrowed his eyes at Neal. He still hadn't asked Neal how much he remembered. "You have any idea how she ended up with your ID on her?"

"My…what?" Neal steadied himself with a few breaths. He clenched his hand around the sheets to keep it from shaking; his memory was clouded, but he remembered that dream, or vision, or whatever the hell you called it. And, it still freaked him out. "I don't know. I don't…"

"It's OK, Neal." Peter reached out and put a reassuring hand over his partner's. He had seen the wild panic flash through Neal's eyes. It tore at him to see Neal so worked up, and unable to catch his breath. "Calm down."

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught Peter's attention, and he looked over to see Dr. Matthews sitting up watching them intently.

"Sorry. We didn't mean to wake you." Peter felt a twinge of guilt, when he realized the doctor must have woke when the heart monitor's beeping had momentarily increased.

"It's fine. I needed to be up anyway. I'm surprised the girls let me sleep this long." The doctor grinned as he shrugged his shoulders. He checked his watch as he stretched the kinks out of his neck. "Three hours. Better than nothing."

"Why didn't you go home?" Peter was grateful for the doctor, but didn't want to strain the friendship. "Don't let us keep you, if you need to go, Evan."

"I had to stay and be on call after last night. Only beds we had left were up on four, and the nurses up there will wake you up if somebody coughs." He laughed a little and gave another shrug. "Company down here is better too. I'm going to go grab some coffee, so you guys can talk about the case, as I assume that's what you were doing. You want anything?"

"Ahh…" Talk about making a man feel guilty. Peter shook his head. "No, I'm fine thanks. But don't run away on our account."

"I'll take a filet, maybe a lobster tail, glass of Shiraz." Neal tried to snicker, but it hurt.

"Uh huh. I'll bring you back some juice." The doctor said over his shoulder as he headed out.

"Tell me." Neal looked pleadingly over at Peter. "What do you know so far?"

"Ok, but you have to promise not to get all worked up. You go spiking that heart rate monitor again, you're gonna get me in trouble."


	21. Chapter 21

I don't own White Collar, or the characters...blah...blah...blah... Please be kind...re[view]...

* * *

Chapter Twenty One

Peter surveyed Neal with a wary eye. He was trying to figure his chances of getting through what he needed to tell, and wanted to ask, without Neal having another episode.

"I can handle it, Peter." Neal tried to ignore the acrid flavor of the bottled oxygen as he pulled in a wheezing breath.

"Mmm." Peter wasn't entirely sure that was true. He'd just have to play it by ear. "Diana was able to get Mrs. Thompson into interview yesterday afternoon. The lawyer called for a timeout, so Diana is going to try again today."

"Why aren't you handling that?" Neal searched his partner's face.

"Hughes has Diana heading the investigation… I'm not officially working." Neal's confused expression still lingered. "I was in the hospital a few days ago."

"Right. Sorry, my mind isn't…"

"It's ok." Peter waved it off. "The long and short of it is, she knew what was going on, but didn't do anything about it. The only thing she's directly involved in is the insurance fraud. Diana's is hoping to get her to agree to plea down to conspiracy on the rest of the charges and roll on her husband. The body found in the fire, was a girl that worked for them in the stables. Her name was Jenny Lingstrom. Ring any bells?"

Neal shook his head. "No."

"From what Diana was able to get out of Mrs. Thompson, it looks like Ms. Lingstrom found out about the insurance fraud and was blackmailing the Senator."

"What does the Senator have to say?" Neal absently fingered the sling across his chest.

"We can't get to him yet. His lawyer is out of the country, and the legal team was able to convince the judge to put a hold on the interviews until his return."

"So the Senator's just sitting in a cell?"

"No, the judge ordered him released. He's at home with an electronic monitor." That was a hard pill to swallow. God only knew what kind of evidence he could be potentially destroying. But that was the game you played when you went after Senator.

"And, Mrs. Thompson?"

"Still sitting behind bars." The thought got a smirk out of Peter.

"I bet that burns her ass." Neal gave the slightest smile.

"Mmm." He needed to ask Neal exactly what had happened while he was being held, but Peter knew he would have to proceed with caution. "There are still a lot of questions we can't answer."

"Like what happened." The little bit of clarity that had come in Neal's eyes faded.

"Yes." Peter knew Neal understood which answers he was after.

"I don't really know, Peter. I just have bits and pieces." Neal drew in as deep a breath as he could manage, and let it out slowly. "I was tied to a chair, in a small room. They kept it completely dark when they weren't there."

"They?" Peter saw Neal's free hand clench, unclench, and re-clench on the bed sheets.

"The Senator, and another man." Neal pulled in another strained breath. "They…they beat me…and another time they came in and…I think they drugged me."

"It's alright, now, Neal. You're safe now." Peter didn't like darkness that was coming in to Neal's eyes or the way his hand was starting to tremble.

"I could feel everything. It was like… I couldn't escape. The light was so bright, and the noise… the pain…" Peter saw a tear start down Neal's face, as the beeping on the heart monitor increased. "A woman was screaming."

"That would have been Ms. Bennett." Peter felt a little relieved when Neal seemed to come back a little at the sound of his voice. "Neal, I have to know. Do you have any idea how she ended up with your ID?"

"No. I must have had it on me, when they grabbed me. I don't know how she got it… she wasn't in the same room…" Peter heard the hitch in Neal's voice, and saw he whole body start trembling.

"What aren't you telling me?"

"I… didn't… I couldn't…" The monitor let out a loud screeching noise, and Peter winced.

A nurse Peter had yet to meet burst through the door. She sent Peter a disapproving glance as she crossed over and silenced the alarm.

"If you're going to agitate him, you're going to have leave." Her voice was razor sharp as she turned on Peter.

"It's alright, Hilary. Go back to your station, I'll handle this." Dr. Matthews' calm and steady voice came from the doorway behind them.

"Yes, doctor." She spared Peter one last icy glare before she left.

Dr. Matthew's checked over his shoulder, and then smiled down at Peter as he handed him a cup of coffee, and sat in the chair beside him. "She's not very friendly, but she is a really good nurse."

"I…"

"Relax, Peter." The doctor kept his eyes on the monitor. Neal's heart rate hadn't returned to normal yet.

"She…was covered in blood…" Neal's voice was nearly a whisper, and his eyes looked empty. The sight shook Peter down to the bone. "She was in the corner…my hands were covered in blood…her blood… I don't know how it got there… and then it… she was gone…"

"Neal?" Peter and the doctor called his name at the same time. Neal's whole body trembled violently, and the heart monitor was going off again.

"Neal? Come on back now. You're OK." The doctor's voice was soothing as he reached over and silenced the alarm again, before doing a quick check on Neal. He walked to the med cart, pulled out a syringe, and added it into Neal's IV. When he was satisfied that Neal was calming down, he turned to Peter. "What's going on, here? Peter…you're going to have to trust me. I can't help him if I don't know."

"I'm not sure." Peter was troubled. "That woman he's talking about. She was found with his ID on her, beaten, bloody… raped."

"You don't think…" The doctor just stared at him, and shook his head. "No way."

"No, I don't think. But I think they had to have been in the same room together at some point."

"you…no…" Neal's speech was slurred and his eyes were starting to droop as he bounced an unsteady finger at Peter. "no…couuuddnnn…vvvv…"

"Gave him a sedative." Dr. Matthews shot an easy grin over at Peter. "Neal Caffrey cut off switch."

Now Peter smiled. "Nice."

.*~*~*~*~*.

Peter could feel Elizabeth watching him as he picked at the dinner she had brought him. They had escaped to the noisy crowded cafeteria to eat; knowing Neal was still out, and not wanting to torment him with the smell of food in the room. Normally he would have eaten the beef tips without hesitation – she had cooked them just how he liked them – but his appetite still wasn't back. He pushed at it with his fork, selecting the smaller pieces so that she wouldn't nag at him. He caught sight of Dr. Matthews walking across the room towards them, and looked up as he approached their table.

"Is Neal ok?" Peter heard the worry in Elizabeth's voice.

"He's fine. He'll probably be out a little while longer yet." He gave a humorous smile. "Peter, there are two people trying to access the ICU, they are insisting on seeing you."

Peter could see the concern on the doctor's face. "Do you know who they are?"

"Ashley Bennett and Theodore Russell."

"Ashley Bennett? You're sure?"

"What's wrong, honey?" Elizabeth reached a hand for her husband's.

"That's the woman that was with Neal. Mr. Russell is her lawyer." He pushed himself back in his chair, and kept his focus on the doctor. "Damn it. Did they say what they want?"

"Just that they needed to see you, and that it couldn't wait until morning. I put them in a private waiting room. I'll take you over if you'd like."

"I'd appreciate that." Peter stood, leaning down to press his lips to Elizabeth's forehead. "I'll meet you back at Neal's room."

Dr. Matthews waited until they were alone walking down the quiet corridor. "The woman wants to see Neal. She was pretty insistent."

"Why does she want to see Neal?" Peter could feel all the hair on the back of his neck stand up in defense.

"She wouldn't say. Once he's awake, if you want to let her see him… that's fine. But I want to be there."

Peter nodded. "I'll let you know."


	22. Chapter 22

I don't own White Collar, or the characters... blah...blah...blah... Please be kind...re[view]...

* * *

Chapter Twenty Two

Peter turned when he heard the door open behind him. Ms. Bennett walked in, followed by the man Peter recognized as her attorney. She walked stiffly, but had covered most of the bruising with her loose fitting clothes, and enough makeup to make her look like a china doll. Her broken arm was held in a loosely hanging sling against her chest. Peter supposed if you didn't know what had been done to her, you wouldn't notice. Unless you looked into her eyes. They weren't the vivid hazel eyes that were sparked with life like the first time he had met her. If you looked, you could see the trouble, and the fatigue that lingered in them.

"Ms. Bennett, Mr. Russell." Peter nodded to them as they entered, motioning for them to sit down. "This is a little unorthodox."

"I'm sorry, I understand that. But…this couldn't wait. I… I needed to see him." The woman's hand shook and she eased down into the chair.

"Why don't you start with why this couldn't wait, and we'll get to why you need to see him." Peter felt a sudden overwhelming need to protect Neal.

"After you left this morning, I… " The woman sucked in a long breath, holding it for a moment before letting it back out. "Talking about it, and seeing that badge you brought… I laid down after you left, to take a nap. But it just… it just all came flooding back. I should have come earlier… I'm sorry, but…"

The lawyer softly reached out and covered her trembling had with his. "I'm sorry. That's my fault. She was so worked up that I called the doctor. He gave her a sedative. When she woke up, she still insisted that she speak with you, so I tracked you down."

"Is he alright? Neal?" Her voice trembled as much as her hand.

"Yes. He's doing ok. Why don't you tell me what you remember."

"He…They…they had him in a separate room. The Senator, he was beating me… and…he kept coming back, and…" She swallowed hard, glancing from Peter to Mr. Russell and back. "He kept forcing himself on me…he wouldn't stop…he'd leave me in the dark for hours on end…and he'd…he'd come back and do it again…"

Peter thought she looked like she was going to be violently ill. "We don't have to do this right now."

"I want to finish this…one time he came back and he started dragging me up… towards the door…I fought against him…I thought he was going to kill me…" She paused, focusing on her breathing to steady herself. "That's when I heard my arm snap. He drug me across the hall to another room. Your partner…Neal… was lying there on the floor. He was so bruised and bloody, I didn't recognize him. They had drugged him. I don't know what they had given him. He was screaming in pain. He must have been hallucinating. He kept reaching out and calling to me, calling me Sara. The Senator told me that I had to keep him alive. He said if Neal was dead when he got back, so was I.

"I did what I could for him. It wasn't much. He was covered in blood, he kept thinking it was mine. He passed out after a little while. When he came awake again, he was a little more lucid. He told me that he worked with the FBI, and that they would come looking for us. I didn't believe him, and he told me to get his ID out of his pocket. He could barely breathe… I was so worried about him. I knew they were going to kill us either way… He passed out again, but I kept looking at that ID. Like if it was real, then maybe what he was telling me was too. That's when I remembered who he was, who you were. But then I heard the door open, so I hid it in my pocket. I wanted to keep it…to remind myself… Louis came in and took me back to the other room. I think it must have been the next morning. I don't know why I think that. He said the Senator was coming back."

"This man, Louis, you recognized him?" Peter couldn't help the feeling of excitement starting in the back of his mind.

"Sure. I'd seen him with the Senator before. That's why I figured they were going to kill us anyway. I knew who they were."

"What happened after that?"

"The Senator never came back."

"I have all of this typed up, I can have it delivered to your office in the morning." Mr. Russell interjected.

"I'd appreciate that. Send it to Agent Diana Barrigan. You met her this morning."

"Yes, I will."

"Please…" Ms. Bennett. "Please, can I see him? I need to see him…"

Peter studied her for a moment. He didn't know what seeing her would do to Neal. "I'll page the doctor. But, if he gets too worked up, you're done… you're out."

.*~*~*~*~*.

Peter led Ms. Bennett through the ICU, and into Neal's room. The blinds were still closed, but the door was open. Peter could see Dr. Matthews standing on the near side of the bed, his back to the door, checking the monitors. Sara sat on the opposite side, Neal's hand in hers, as she softly stroked his hair. Neal's head was turned towards her, so that Peter couldn't tell if he was awake yet or not. Peter saw Sara whisper something, and Neal's head slowly turned to face him. His partner's blue eyes were still glassy and hollow looking, and his movements were very deliberate. Peter assumed it was the lingering effects of the sedative the doctor had given him earlier. He also saw the moment when Neal's eyes landed on Ashley Bennett, the gradual recognition, and the sudden panic.

"Neal." Peter finished crossing the room in just a few steps, drawing his partner's attention of the woman behind him. "She just wanted to see that you were alright. She told us what happened."

Peter heard the beeping of the heart monitor increase, and saw Dr. Matthews flick him a concerned look out of the corner of his eye.

"I…you…" Neal's body trembled and his voice shook, as he searched for words.

"You're not in trouble, Neal." Peter reached down and tussled Neal's hair, feeling his partner relax just a little at the gesture. "She was worried about you."

"Neal?" Ashley's voice sounded just as uneasy as Neal was. Peter looked up as she approached and saw the silent tears streaming down her face. "I'm sorry if my coming upset you…but I had to know if you were ok."

"I…the blood…you're blood…" His voice was nearly a whisper. Sara gripped Neal's trembling hand tighter, and sent Peter a warning look. "I…"

"No, Neal. It wasn't mine. It was yours. It was all yours. You didn't hurt me." Ashley took the last few steps towards the end of the bed, gently lying her hand on the blanket that covered Neal's legs. Her voice was trembling, and Peter thought she was on the edge of losing her composure. "I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you that myself."

Peter watched Neal watch Ashley. Those blue eyes were narrowed as he studied her and weighed the information.

"He was supposed to go back for you. After…after he got rid of me…"

"He never made it. Peter and the Calvary showed up."

Neal flicked a glance over at Peter, then reached his hand out for Ashley's. "You're ok?"

"Yes, I'm ok." Ashley broke. Peter moved her into the chair, and quietly back away from them as he motioned for Sara to do the same.

"You look like you took off a load." Sara turned to Peter once they were out of the room. "She able to give a statement?""

"Yeah, and it's going to go a long way against the Senator." Peter ran his hands down his face and leaned up against the glass wall. "Going to keep Justice from breathing down are backs as well."

"They're not trying to go after Neal again?" There was a hint of fury in her voice.

"They were making noises. Two cases in a row…" Peter blew out a breath. "She's solid. Her statement will clear him."

"They tried to kill him..." Sara stared blankly at him for a moment in disbelief, before nodding and settling against the wall next to him. "Justice is a bunch of assholes..."

Peter smiled. "I'll tell them you said that."


	23. Chapter 23

**I know, I know... it's short... I've been soo busy, and the muse has been on strike...**

* * *

Peter stood in silence and watched as Ms. Bennett and her lawyer disappeared behind the closing doors of the elevator.

"You think she's telling the truth?" Sara watched the elevator as well.

"I do. I don't think she's part of this." Peter turn to face Sara. "She's a victim in all of it."

The door behind them opened, and Dr. Matthews came out, carefully and quietly pulling the door closed behind him.

"He's asking for you, Peter. I had to bump up his pain meds, so I don't know how much longer he'll be awake." Dr. Matthews raked a weary hand through his hair. "Seeing her took a lot out of him."

"You don't think I should have let her see him?" Peter flicked his gaze over to the door of Neal's room where he could see Neal through the glass.

"I think it was good he saw her. I think he needed to, mentally, to start healing." Evan shrugged on his leather jacket over top of his scrubs. "But it's worn him out."

"Let me buy you a cup of coffee?" Sara motioned towards the doctor.

"Sure, then I'm headed home." He nodded towards Peter. "Call if you need anything."

"We'll be fine. Go home, get some sleep." Peter shook the doctors hand, and turned, gently pushing the door to Neal's room open.

Neal's head turned towards the soft sound of Peter's footsteps, his eyes slowly opening, the vivid blue now dulled by the haze of medication. "You're going to get him, Peter."

"Who?" Peter eased himself down in the chair next to Neal's bed.

"The Senator."

"It's only a matter of time. Don't worry about that right now."

"I know where he is."

"Who? The Senator? So do I, he's at home on house arrest." Concern spread across Peter's face. "Don't you remember..."

"No... no..." Neal's voice was hardly more than a whisper. "Starward Gaze. I know where he is."

"You tell Ms. Bennett?"

"No. Have to make sure first." Neal stretched his arm out, pointing weakly at Peter, even as his eyes drooped shut. "You have to make sure first."

Neal's hand went limp, and Peter tucked it back onto the bed. Morning would be soon enough, he decided, and he leaned back in the chair and let his own eyes rest for a little while.


End file.
